The Avatars
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: The King of the Winds and his four winds begin a doomed romance with five mortals who are the chosen avatars of five very powerful deities. Love blossoms before identites are revealed, but its petals may wither to dust in the face of powerful opposition.
1. Decisions and Discord

The Avatars – Chapter One: Decisions and Discord

            The goddess's infuriated shrieks shook Mount Olympus all the way down to its formidable foundations as the mortals below trembled with fear, wondering what would rain down upon them from the heavens next.

            Among the group of five girls clustered in one of the palace's opulent rooms, however, Hera's tantrums were nothing new. There was little reaction from them; Mehalia stretched lazily, her long golden hair spilling over the edge of the sofa to pooling on the ground in silken heaps, Kassia yawned, her purple eyes slitted half-shut, Lehana scratched a flaking scab on her wrist absentmindedly, Rhoswen leaned her chin on her hands, and Ayla unrolled another thick parchment scroll. 

            Closing her eyes as the walls shook with Hera's renewed fury, Lehana asked without much interest, "What's the old hag moaning about now?"

            Kassia smiled to herself, purple eyes amused. "Now, Leha, is that any way to speak about the Queen of the Gods? Particularly the wife of _your_ god."

            The emerald-eyed brunette smiled mischievously. As Zeus's avatar, she was second only in fame to Rhoswen, whose radiant silver hair and gorgeous blue eyes had earned her the honor of being the most beautiful mortal woman alive. Lehana could also enjoy certain liberties that came with her status–but she also had to watch out for Hera's wrath. "Oh, well... I behave myself around her, and as long as I don't involve myself with Zeus and agree to tell everyone that their marriage is proceeding wonderfully... Let's just say we've reached an understanding. As for that unbearable screeching...she's probably just found out about yet another one of Zeus's paramours."

            Rhoswen flushed at the mention of sexual matters and toyed with her twin streamers of silvery hair. "Hera isn't such a witch, Leha. She's always been nice to me."

            Kassia rolled her eyes, but her fond smile took the edge off her words. "_Everyone's_ always been nice to you, Rhoswen."

            "How can they help it?" Ayla added, her blue eyes keen as she glanced up from a scroll Asclepius had sent her on the setting of broken bones. Half the time, she appeared to be lost in scholarly pursuits, but she always heard everything that was being said.

            The silver-haired girl scooted over to hug her friend impulsively, nearly crushing the scroll in the process. Ayla returned the favor before rescuing her precious scroll; she rolled it up carefully, finally ready to join in the conversation.

            "Well...certain gods have been nicer than others, from what I hear." Mehalia's eyes were sparkling wickedly as she leaned her flawless cheek in her hand.

            Raven-haired Kassia sat straight up, spilling a handful of silver bangles onto the floor. They tinkled merrily, clanging against each other until the last bangle rested flat on the tiles. "Which ones?" she demanded, tomes of suspicion wrapped up in those two simple words.

            Rhoswen buried her face under scented purple cushions as Mehalia swooped over to tease and Kassia to scold. All traces of merriment vanished from Lehana's face, and she brooded in the corner, looking as stormy as a thundercloud. Ayla's expression was troubled, and she looked over at her friends with worry. The very reason that they led such comfortable, luxurious lives was the same reason for why they were forbidden to involve themselves with men. 

            They were the legendary avatars, five young women who had been infused with minor powers of the gods and goddesses they served. Rhoswen was bound to Artemis's service, Mehalia to Aphrodite, Kassia to Ares, Lehana to Zeus, and Ayla to Athena. At the moment, the other gods and goddesses were either between avatars or had never chosen to take any. Hades, for example, was one of the later group–much to the relief of many a young woman who feared living in his shadowy palace among the dead.

            It was easy to see that the one who had come up with the idea of the avatars had been male–a god. All avatars were female; there was an unspoken rule that men could not be avatars. Perhaps it was because the gods feared for the defiling of the last three virgin goddesses: Hestia, Artemis, and Athena, or those who were married wished to prevent the seduction of their wives (not that seduction was an uncommon thing among the gods and goddesses anyway). 

            Not many rules governed the behavior of an avatar. More applied to the gods. The avatar, when chosen, was typically a young virgin girl in her teens. The current generation, however, had been singled out when they were mere babes. They had been taken to the oracles at Delphi and Dodona by their parents or other caretakers, each girl bearing a different symbol on her forehead. When they had turned fourteen, they had been spirited away to Mount Olympus to begin their duties as avatars, although they did not have many. 

            Basically, they carried out their god or goddess's wishes on earth. This could entail carrying messages to kings and oracles, establishing universities, visiting those deities who dwelled on earth, and reporting certain matters of significance to the Pantheon: good harvests, bad harvests, plagues, droughts, floods, and the like. The rest of the time, the avatars did as they wished. They lived in splendid suites on Mount Olympus, frolicked with the Muses and Graces, visited the Furies without fear, and flirted with the gods. 

            But one of the cardinal rules for the avatars was no involvement with men–none whatsoever, be they mortal or gods. Of course, the rule had been broken a thousand times by the male gods and their specific avatars, but as long as it was discreet, it was viewed as something to be expected and easily overlooked. But dalliance between a god and an avatar who was not his especial property–forbidden. Absolute taboo. The whole idea behind the position of the avatars had been to create pure vessels for the divinities: young virgin women who were virgins when they began their service and died as virgins (presumably).

            There were a few rules that applied to the gods and goddesses. They could only be in possession of one avatar at a time. It was thought that women, the _weaker_ sex, would vie with each other for the attention of the god if forced to live together and perform the same duties. No interference with the other deities' avatars was a given. Treatment of the avatars was also supposed to be closely monitored: no physical violence, no verbal abuse, and no rape. There had been other guidelines, but over the years, they had blurred.

            The tradition was an old one. For years, the avatars had been held up before mortal men and women as the closest mortals could come to perfection without becoming actual gods or goddesses. Of course the avatars were always beautiful: this generation was no exception. It caused no little jealousy among the deities, but that was also to be expected. The avatars acted as intermediaries for the gods and the mortals they ruled over, and their positions were exalted above all others. 

            Once an avatar began losing her looks, she stepped down gracefully and handed her position over to a new successor. The old avatar would then go and live among Hestia's Vestal Virgins in Rome.

            Unfortunately, the distinctions concerning moral behavior had blurred a bit in recent times. The avatars were still beautiful young women, and they still became Hestia's charges once their looks faded. The avatars–or, more correctly, one particular avatar, was no longer untouchable among the gods. Basically, a clever deity had turned the situation to her advantage. If one had a lovely, desirable mortal female as a servant...well, why not use her? 

            Aphrodite used Mehalia to gain her certain concessions from powerful gods. The god in question would promise her something she wanted, and in exchange for that favor, he would have one night with her avatar. Due to the strict regulations about rape, Mehalia had to agree beforehand–not that she disagreed often. The majority of the gods were handsome, courteous to women, and skilled lovers (due to centuries of experience). Neither was it wise for an avatar to disagree with her god or goddess, as she usually had another two decades or so to serve, and living with a vengeful goddess like Aphrodite, who could be particularly vindictive, was not a very pleasant thing.

            The one time this matter had been brought before Zeus in blunt terms, the entire Pantheon had been in an uproar. In the end, even perpetually-jealous Hera had been won over: Mehalia, living on Mount Olympus, were convenient, in close proximity, and untouched by mortal men. Philanderers like Zeus would end their ceaseless affairs with mortal women (Zeus had had over a half-dozen affairs going at the time), and it seemed like a profitable solution for everyone–even the avatars, in the gods' opinion...if this continued. They had a place of honor, pretty things, lives of luxury, and gods for lovers. What more could be lacking? Nothing, in their opinions. 

            There were still various gods and goddesses who were against the practice, but who could speak out against Zeus and Hera? The three most vocal were Hestia, Artemis, and Athena–the three virgin goddesses, unsurprisingly. Hestia considered the presence of women who were not virgins in her temples stains upon her own purity. Artemis thought it was a cruel, needless practice and hotly defended the young women. Athena looked at it from a coolly practical point of view: she thought it just like the mortal men having their way with the slaves. There were differences in treatment, rank, and duties, but she used it as an example that the gods were turning as barbaric and warlike as the mortal men they scorned. So far they were unsuccessful in bringing about a return to custom. 

            Several goddesses, with, surprisingly, Hera at their fore, had been campaigning for yet another change in tradition. They wanted to have male avatars–they argued that if the gods had female mortals serving them, they could choose male mortals for their avatars (Hera's means of getting revenge upon her unfaithful husband). They were having little luck changing the minds of Zeus, the other male divinities, and even several goddesses. 

            Currently, the deities were of mixed thoughts about this new way of doing things. Aphrodite and Mehalia had an intricate, complicated relationship, and the two great beauties were extremely careful in their dealings with each other. The same arrangement did not hold for Zeus and Lehana, Artemis and Rhoswen, Ares and Kassia, or Athena and Ayla–bad enough, they said, that Aphrodite was doing things this way. It was kept hushed up, especially from the mortals, and even from the minor gods.

            But several gods knew that if they wanted a night with Aphrodite's lovely avatar, all they had to do was offer her something she wanted–not that many of them tried it, for fear of being labeled by their peers. But they watched Mehalia, and the other avatars, and fantasized about them as the mortal men did. The kindest term that was applied to the avatars, indiscriminately, was seductress. Coarser names were whispered among the jealous goddesses and scornful gods–whores, sluts, prostitutes. Mehalia seemed not to mind the gossip that went around behind her back, but Kassia and Lehana were furious. Ayla kept her opinions to herself, and gentle Rhoswen was completely unconscious of the rude murmurings.

            Ayla's thoughts were drawn back to the present as Mehalia and Kassia finished their interrogation of their victim, Rhoswen. Her voice was muffled as she admitted from under a pile of multicolored pillows, "It's Apollo."

            Mehalia sat back on her heels, a worried frown marring her perfect features. She had dropped the act of airheaded flirt. "This is not good," she said flatly. "The twin brother of your goddess...who knows what trouble this could cause." Despite Aphrodite's agreements, it was still strictly maintained that the avatars were never to involve themselves with the gods (or any mortal men, for that matter). Complaints or just plain gossip about Mehalia was done in secrecy, not discussed openly.

            Kassia said curtly, "Tell him to leave you alone. It's against divine law."

            The silver-haired girl emerged from the pile of cushions on the ground, blushing profusely as she wound her fingers in the slippery rope tassels. "But...he's so handsome...and he's always been so kind to me..."

            Lehana's voice was unusually harsh as she replied, "What lies beneath the beautiful surface is often much less desirable than the glittering veneer, Rhoswen. You do something with Apollo, no matter what kind of gentleman he appears to be, and you'll bring the entire wrath of Olympus down upon us."

            She stood abruptly, and the pillow that had been resting on her stomach tumbled to the ground with a soft thud. "I should be going now...I'll be busy the rest of today. I'll see you all tomorrow, all right?" She had disappeared through the gilded door without waiting for their reply, and four pairs of eyes stared after her.

            Rhoswen leaned her head against Mehalia's shoulder and whispered, "I didn't mean to upset her."

            The golden-haired girl patted the shining, silver-tressed head. "I know, sweetheart. Don't worry; she'll be all better tomorrow."

            Kassia's face was stormy as she rose swiftly to her feet, unconscious grace making her quick movements elegant and hypnotic. "I'm being called," she said shortly before leaving the room as well. What she meant was that her god, Ares, had summoned her to him.

            Rhoswen glanced at her two remaining friends helplessly, stretching her slender arms out. "What should I do, Melia, Ayla?"

            While Mehalia appeared to be considering, the blue-haired girl spoke first. "I don't see what else you could possibly be doing, Rhoswen. You know the price that you may have to pay–you could lose your status as an avatar and be sent back to the earth in disgrace. Do as Kassia says and avoid Lord Apollo for awhile."

            "But he told me that he loved me."

            "Apollo is honorable–but he is only a god, after all," Ayla replied. 

            Mehalia's laugh pealed silvery and bright. "'Only a god,'" she repeated. "What mortal girls who heard you would do to you if they heard that..."

            "This is all your fault," Kassia snapped at the blonde as she reappeared, slamming the door behind her. Ares had asked her to go on a brief errand and return to him in an hour, so she had come back to more thoroughly chastise the gathered company. Glaring at the other two girls, she muttered sarcastically, "You're speaking loud enough for the oracle at Delphi to hear you, for goodness' sake. Do you want someone to overhear you? That would solve all of our problems rather nicely for us."

            Mehalia frowned in polite confusion. "Exactly what is all my fault, Kassia? Did I tell Eros to shoot Apollo with some of his arrows and _make_ him fall in love with Rhoswen?"

            She huffed impatiently. "You know what I mean. If you didn't do what you do, there would be no question of Rhoswen saying 'yes' at all."

            "And what is it that I do?"

            Silence. Even Kassia was not brave enough to say what she meant.

            Mehalia's voice remained light and pleasant, but her eyes had cooled to ice. "Ah ha! So, even my nearest and dearest friends are of the opinion that I am nothing more than a whore. How many men is it that you think I've bedded, Kassia? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? The entire male population of Olympus, or perhaps including the gods on earth?"

            Kassia's face was chalk white, save for the burning spots of red on her cheeks that matched the coiled rage in Mehalia's voice. "Melia, that isn't what I meant," she began.

            "It is precisely what you meant," she cut in, "and I'm not going to stay and hear you try to make it better." She rose to her feet with her usual breathtaking grace, even managing smiles for Ayla and Rhoswen before she exited.

            Kassia threw herself onto the couch and buried her face in the cushions. Rhoswen had just opened her mouth to say something comforting when a soft silver glow was suddenly emitted from the symbol that appeared on her forehead. "I'm so sorry," she told them, "but Artemis needs me..."

            "Go on," Ayla told her, indicating that she would take care of the situation at hand. Her friend vanished with a relieved smile on her face: Rhoswen and the others often put their confidence in Ayla's intelligence and intuitive advice. Once again, Rhoswen was sure that Ayla, their designated peacemaker, would solve all the problems, as usual.

            As she watched her friend go, Ayla sighed and rumpled her short hair anxiously. She approached Kassia–she thought the other girl would be crying, but as she laid a gentle hand on the gleaming head, Kassia jerked up and moved away, the curtain of long, raven-dark hair falling between them.

             "She makes me so angry!" she burst out, combing her fingers through her hair rapidly.

            Ayla raised an eyebrow, but her voice was cool and untroubled as she replied, "You just made her very angry yourself." 

            Kassia hung her head for a short moment. "I know," was the very soft answer, "and it wasn't right of me. But it isn't fair to her!" Her chin came up, and her intense purple eyes stared into Ayla's sapphire blue ones.

            Calmly, she asked, "What isn't fair to Mehalia?"

            "Everything! The way Aphrodite treats her–anyone can see that that scheming, catty bitch is jealous of her. She's putting her through all this agony in hopes that it will eventually be too much for Mehalia, and the minute she starts losing her beauty, Aphrodite will ship her off to Hestia, and–" Kassia gave an indignant, muffled squeak as Ayla covered her mouth.

            "Unless you plan on keeping Tantalus company in Hell, I suggest that you be a little quieter," Ayla warned levelly. 

            She released her friend a few seconds later, and Kassia continued her tirade at a lower volume. "And can you believe the humiliation she has to endure? No one says anything to her face, of course, because they all _adore_ Mehalia. They sing her praises everywhere, about how beautiful she is, how accomplished...the minute they're in some dark corner or having one of their exclusive little garden parties, it's 'Yes, what a wench that girl is, it's positively shameful...someone should tell Zeus about her.' Then they make lewd jokes about how Zeus is probably on our side because she beds him. Of course, this leads to wonderful bets about how long it'll take Hera to find one of us in his bed."

            Ayla's cheeks had begun flushing somewhere during Kassia's speech, and when Kassia paused for breath, she said firmly, "I know what they say, Kassia. I agree with you completely–it's not right that Mehalia should be treated so badly by those who are, outwardly, her friends and admirers. But I'm sure she knows what they say behind her back. If she can ignore a handful of busybody troublemakers, why can't you?"

            "It's a matter of pride," Kassia replied shortly. "One that you, apparently, and Mehalia don't understand." The barb had little effect on her even-tempered friend, and the moment the words had left her lips, she had begun to regret saying them.

            "Well, you're entitled to your own opinion, of course." Ayla got to her feet slowly, deliberately. "I understand your anger, but are you sure that it stems only from Mehalia's mistreatment? As you've said, what they say of her is often applied to all of us, as a whole. Is what makes you so angry the stigma also attached to yourself now?"

            It really was amazing what painful barbs could be issued in Ayla's soft, pleasant voice. Her frame was deceptively petite, sheltering a razor-sharp mind. Most of the inhabitants of Olympus were now acquainted with her irrefutable arguments and crafty maneuvering. Not many of them were familiar with the shyness kept carefully concealed from them.

            In her village, Kassia had been famous for an uncontrollable temper and an inability to tolerate stupidity. Her eyes should have been shooting sparks at the moment, and she should have been sharpening her tongue on Ayla. The one time she had been forced to returning to her old home, those who had known her had been shocked by the change that had come over Kassia during her service to the god Ares.

            Kassia shook her head, rising as well and heading for the door. Ayla couldn't see the tears that were glimmering in her eyes, salty drops of hurt and suffering that were dashed away quickly. "They can say what they like about me," she replied quietly before the door shut to leave the last of the avatars alone.

~~~~~*~~~~~

AN: A number of things should already be apparent:

a) although this chapter, as the first, was mostly introductory, the action will move quickly (but this doesn't mean lack of character development)

b) yes, it's chock full of mythological allusions without footnotes. If anyone's having too much trouble with the references, please contact me and I still start leaving notes at the bottom regarding things like the gods and particularly famous mortals

c) this is set in a pre-Trojan war era, but I'm not particularly fastidious about background details–in fact, I've manipulated a lot of things, so I hope that no one minds...

            The story is still quite rough, but I have a general idea of where things are proceeding. In the next chapter, the Shittenou will be introduced... I understand that it is difficult when authors come up with new names, especially for the senshi, but I have tried to keep the names starting with the same letter, the exceptions being Serenity and Rei. The reason for the re-naming will become clear around Chapter 3 or 4...

            Rei is also more temperamental in this fic, and her and Lita's slightly-abnormal behavior will be explained as things progress. I think I've been making Rei a bit too tame, so I'm trying to remedy it in this fic! ^.~ Not to say she will be the absolute terror she's made out to be in the anime, but she'll have a temper. ^^

_Serenity_: Rhoswen

_Mina_: Mehalia (Melia)

_Lita_: Lehana (Leha)

_Rei_: Kassia

_Ami_: Ayla

            I hope you enjoyed the first chapter ^^ and thank you to those who asked specifically for _Avatars_ to be written ASAP and voted for it on the site. Thanks again!!

            ~Ice


	2. Crafty Women and Clumsy Women

_The Avatars – Chapter Two: Crafty Women…and Clumsy Women_

            Aeolus, the King of the Winds, paused in his daily sweep of the earth when he passed by the familiar energy signature of his friend Zephyrus West-Wind. He paused in mid-air and materialized in his human form, waiting for his friend to notice his presence. If those who observed him could forget the fact that he was hanging in the sky, he appeared to be an exceedingly handsome, well-built young man with coal-black hair and sapphire blue eyes.

            Zephyrus was chatting up a girl who was perched precariously on the edge of a well and who had hair and looks as fair as his; she was flaunting her cleavage quite unashamedly, and he was taking a shamelessly good look of the view while he worked his charm. Aeolus had watched his friend seduce scores of women with a basically unchanged routine, and he was always surprised to see how well it worked–since Zephyrus's pickup lines were practically as old as he was, which was about two and a half centuries.

            However, the wind gods were babies in comparison to the deities of the Pantheon and sometimes treated as such, a matter which their pride failed to accept. 

            When Aeolus was tired of waiting (and somewhat disgusted by what was going on in plain sight beneath him), he landed on the packed earth beside the well with a soft thud. "Ahem. Excuse me! ZEPHYRUS!" he finally yelled when they failed to notice him.

            The girl let out a high-pitched squeal and fell backwards into the fountain, her arms flailing wildly. She hit the water with a very loud splash, and Zephyr adjusted his tunic meticulously before peering down into the dark depths of the fountain. "Hello? Are you still alive?" he called down courteously.

            "_Machaon_! Get me out of here!" she shrieked.

            Aeolus, who was holding her head and shoulders above the water level so she wouldn't drown with his magic, raised his eyebrows. "Machaon? Is that who you are today?"

            Zephyr smiled lazily. "For the moment. Of course, I'm at your service, my liege." He sketched low bow, and as he glanced up at his friend and king, the corners of his mouth quirked up in what could only be described as impudence. Both of them ignored her continued screams for help, as there was no danger of her drowning.

            "But, ah, perhaps it might be more prudent next time if you called me in a different matter. You frightened my lady friend," Zephyr said with a lascivious wink.

            Aeolus shook his head. "She could have died, you know," he informed his careless friend. "Why didn't you save her?"

            Zephyrus shrugged. His substantial form was that of a youth slightly shorter and younger than Endymion; his body was lean and slender but still well-muscled and tanned from sun exposure. Zephyr's hair was a burnished copper-blonde in comparison to Eurus's lemon yellow hair, and his green eyes were always full of wicked humor. 

            "I knew that you, being the perfect gentleman, would catch her," Zephyr drawled, "so why should I bother? You're faster, more careful, and less likely than I to drown her, even accidentally."

            The black-haired god frowned. "Stop being so lazy," Aeolus chided. "One day I might not be able to bail you out of a mess, and then where will you be?"

            "At Zeus's tender mercies, I suppose? He likes me well enough...says my tricks remind him of Hermes'. Mine are better, I think. Although Zeus might be more partial to me if I was a female...do you think Boreas knows how to shapeshift into a woman?" 

            When he saw the look on his friend's face, Zephyr laughed merrily. "Oh, stop worrying, Aeolus! Come, let's seek out the others and have some fun, shall we?" he suggested, speaking of the other three winds, North, South, and East.

            Aeolus nodded towards the well, where the mortal woman Zephyrus had been fooling around with before was now crying theatrically. "And what about your playfellow here?"

            "Do what you like with her," was his unhelpful answer as the handsome god winked roguishly at his king and disappeared, leaving a shower of cherry blossoms in his wake.

            Aeolus wrinkled his nose at the smell and sighed as he hauled the sopping woman out of the well.

            "Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, throwing her arms around him (after she had noticed how good-looking he was). "Are you a friend of Machaon's? What is your name?"

            He backed away nervously when she had let go. "Um...yes, I know M–Machaon. My name? My name is...Endymion," he lied quickly.

            "Are you a soldier as well?"

            He choked back his laughter, imagining his finicky, vain friend trying army life. Zephyr would discover that the food was awful, the ground cold and hard, mirrors were scarce, and he wouldn't be able to wash his hair five times a day. "No, I'm just a humble shepherd," he replied.

            Her very red lips, artfully stained with the juice of berries, formed an O, and she looked down at her feet, disappointed. Shepherds, no matter how handsome, were not worth her time. She decided perhaps it would be a better idea to look up Nisus... 

            Aeolus, meanwhile, was wondering at her fickleness. "You must be looking for Machaon. Well, he had to...leave."

            "Oh, that's all right," she said airily. "He knows where to find me when he comes to beg for my forgiveness." Again, Aeolus had to suppress the ludicrous mental image of Zephyrus begging _anyone_ to forgive him. "I had best be going now, though. It was wonderful meeting you, Endis..."

            "Endymion," he corrected.

            "Yes, yes...Endmon, I know...but I must go now. It was lovely meeting you." She blew him a very distracted kiss as she meandered down the winding path, and Aeolus lingered only a minute longer, feeling very befuddled.

~~~~*~~~~

            Boreas's expression was, as usual, quite stony. He wondered how he kept getting themselves into these situations... Any other man, god or mortal, would have killed to be in his position, but the silver-haired North Wind thought he would have killed to get away from it all. 

            Aphrodite, considered the most beautiful goddess by far, was running her hand along the muscles of his chest, and it was proving very distracting. She wasn't subtle, and she was used to getting her way with men. But she was very persuasive, and, damn her, if she didn't stop that...

            'Boreas. Boreas? Where are you?'

            He straightened up immediately and pushed Aphrodite away more forcefully than he intended. As a goddess, she was stronger than any mortal male and almost as strong as he was, but she played the part of the wounded female to perfection, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shocked gasp. "Boreas!"

            'In a minute,' he responded hurriedly.

            He looked down into her perfect face: gleaming blond hair, rich blue eyes, fair skin, blood-red lips... She made his heart race, but he wasn't going to be drawn in that easily. More gently, he grasped her hand and kissed it lightly. "My apologies, Aphrodite. But I must go–Aeolus is calling me." 

            'And thank Gaia for that,' he thought to the earth-goddess who had mothered them with genuine fondness. Boreas never lied, and he was trying to come up with an excuse to leave when Aeolus, unknowingly, had saved him.

            She pouted, sliding a fingertip along his stomach. She felt the muscles bunch and tense and smiled coyly, all traces of tears gone in an instant. "Don't go, Boreas. Aeolus will understand if you're a little late...don't you want to stay with me?"

            Boreas stood stiffly, fastening the glittering silver belt at his waist. It was the only part of his attire that drew attention. "You know that any man would suffer greatly when denied your presence, Aphrodite."

            "How ravishingly silver-tongued you are today!" Aphrodite exclaimed delightedly, her hands brushing his arm. "Don't tell me that Zephyrus has rubbed off on you at last?"

            Inwardly, he seethed with jealousy, but he merely favored her with a slight smile. "Perhaps. Until the next time we meet, goddess."

            She pressed herself against him daringly and planted a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll be waiting," she said, releasing him at last.

            Boreas raised his eyebrows, shaking his head as he backed away from her. "Why are you so determined to have me, Aphrodite? There are plenty of other men who are willing to oblige you...and you have a husband."

            She ignored the mention of Hephaestus. "Because you are so determined not to have me, Boreas. Every man, every woman wants what they cannot have." 

            When he had teleported himself to the island of Aeolia, where Aeolus's castle sat, her lips pursed in anger, and she slammed down her golden brush upon the table in frustration. "One way or another, he will be mine!"

~~~~*~~~~

            Eurus East Wind of the curling, flaxen hair and azure blue eyes barely repressed a smirk when the most senior of them arrived last, his hair and clothes rumpled by more than his method of transport, which was by wind.

            Boreas settled himself at the table, trying to school the annoyance from his face. He glanced around–Aeolus, Zephyrus, Eurus, Notus...why were they all looking at him like that? Even Notus, who usually refrained from giving him grief, was smiling. 

            "Wipe that smirk off your face, Zephyrus," he ordered roughly, belatedly realizing the state of his ordinarily immaculate hair. As he smoothed the long silver strands, Zephyrus, his protégé, let loose the laughter he had managed to hold back.

            "By the gods, Boreas, you look as mad as a hornet!" he chuckled merrily. "If only you could see yourself now...and being late to one of our meetings. Unacceptable, Boreas," he said, trying to emulate the tone of voice Boreas used when addressing one of his constant misdemeanors.

            Eurus sighed. Sometimes his friend failed to recognize when to keep his mouth shut. He himself, of course, had much more class. 

            "Be quiet," Boreas shot back, an ominous look on his face.

            "Oh, but–"

            Zephyrus never had a chance to finish his sentence, because Boreas had now leaned out of his seat and grabbed a fistful of his shimmering turquoise robes. "If you know what's good for you," he began in a threatening voice.

            Mildly, Aeolus said, "That's enough, you two." He took hold of Zephyrus, although his hold was much gentler, and Notus pulled Boreas back into his seat. Eurus remained seated, observing their actions with a small smile on his face.

            "Turquoise isn't your color," Boreas muttered as an afterthought.

            Before Zephyr could protest, Aeolus spoke up hurriedly, calling them to order. They settled down at once, peaceable expressions on each of their faces as four different colored spirals shone from beside their hearts. His own was an amber-gold hue. 

            "Now, if we can get started...your report first, Eurus," Aeolus commanded his friend. The cynical look on Eurus's face sometimes made him more nervous that he would have liked to admit.

            "Strong waves near Delos," was his concise observation. "Other than that, Ocean seems quite still."

            The king nodded. "Very well. And you, Notus?"

            The brown-haired South Wind smiled, ignoring Boreas's dark remarks about Zephyr's impudence. "The winds were getting a bit out of hand over by Nauplia, but I had a word with them. Overexcited, I suspect, about the news of gathering of all the gods and goddesses on Olympus. They tend to let the office of being messengers get to their heads."

            "I'm sure they'll quiet down now that you've talked to them. Zephyr? Did you accomplish anything besides flirting this morning?"

            Zephyr's green eyes lit up. "Well, now that you mention it, I did make some more progress with–um, I mean..." He had caught the menacing look in Boreas's eyes that promised little good for him. He cleared his throat. "All quiet on Mount Ida," he reported dutifully. "The flowers are in bloom."

            'And all the young maidens are out picking them,' Eurus thought with a sardonic smile, 'while he picks from among _them_.'

            Aeolus, however, was not thinking about the indiscreet activities of the West Wind. "What about you, Boreas? Were you able to see anything before you were waylaid by Aphrodite?"

            The silver-haired god, who had just taken a gulp of the wine set before them, choked. "How did you know about that?"

            "The entire Pantheon knows about that," Aeolus sighed. "And myself only too well. Tell me, did Aphrodite know it was I who called you away?" When Boreas nodded, his hopeful expression crumpled. "Oh, damn it all to Hades! She's already on my case, nagging me about how I could influence you to be more agreeable and what bad manners my winds have. Wipe that smirk off your face, Zephyrus, before I do it for you," he added, his usually good nature turning grumpy when he thought of the scolding he would receive the next time he and Aphrodite came face to face.

            Brushing back his carefully-styled copper hair with an injured look, Zephyr replied, "My manners are charming, Aeolus. Ask anyone!"

            "You mean any girl you haven't cast aside yet," Eurus corrected with a perfectly straight face. "There aren't that many of them left, in my thinking."

            Instead of protesting, the green-eyed wind smiled beatifically. "There are more of them than there should be, my friend. But I'm always happy to share. Are you doing any better with that dryad, Notus?"

            "Out of order!" Boreas barked, still red-faced from his encounter with Aphrodite and anger with his friends.

            "This meeting is adjourned," Aeolus said in disgust, leaning back in his chair as the two blondes and brunet began to speak of women. The spiral ciphers on their chests faded so that they looked like ordinary but overly-handsome young men once again. 

            He turned to offer Boreas some of the free-flowing ambrosia that a soft-footed servant brought in. Her coils of dark mahogany hair caught the light, glinting with bronze tones, and Aeolus smiled at her warmly before he turned his attention to his friend. "Are you all right, Boreas?"

            "Just fine," he grumbled with a sulky look on his face.

            "What I don't understand is why–"

            "I appreciate the concern," Boreas cut in brusquely, "but I can handle these affairs myself, Aeolus."

            The ebony-haired man subsided without another word, but the matter remained in his mind as it stuck in Boreas's. Late that night, asleep in the spacious palace across the hall from Aeolus and with Notus in the room to his right and Zephyr to his left (with company, no doubt), he turned the problem over and over in his mind.

            Aphrodite was everything he wanted in a woman–except fidelity. But she had separated herself from Ares for him, declared herself chaste during the time she had been pursuing him, and he believed her. She was beautiful, so beautiful. He had seen many beautiful women in his life and had never been taken in by them, but something about her threw him off-balance. Sometimes Boreas wondered if she was enchanting him with her magic girdle, Cestus, but pushed the thought out of his mind.

            If he did give in...well, what was wrong with that? He had centuries–forever–to heal his broken heart, and he wasn't expecting their love to last as long as their lives. But she had a husband, the long-suffering Hephaestus. Surely he was used to her affairs by now. It was a crime to tie the crippled smith-god, no matter how kind his heart, to such a lovely, youthful goddess.

            Aphrodite was his idol, his model for every other woman he had compared to her and found lacking. Boreas had seen her for the first time when he had first entered Olympus and become infatuated with her then, her charms, her grace, her beauty... Even though he felt himself utterly lost when he was around her, he managed to resist her still. He loved her, but he would teach her a lesson–he would leave a lasting imprint on her fickle heart. 

            Boreas sighed, shifting restlessly in the silken sheets. Tomorrow, perhaps, or another day in the near future, he would speak with one of his brethren. All of them were younger than he but much more skilled when it came to love and women. Everyone knew who Zephyr was pursuing at any given moment (provided they could keep his women straight); no one ever knew how Eurus handled his lovers, only that he, too had them. Notus managed to make his relationships last, for he was a sweet and considerate lover, but he would mope for days in self-imposed solitude when they ended. 

            Tomorrow held much more in store for Boreas than he anticipated, and he never would get around to questioning Zephyrus, Eurus, or Notus about Aphrodite...   

 ~~~~*~~~~

AN: Mm...is this what you expected? ^.~ Boreas (Kunzite) is slightly out of character, I realize, but he's young yet. In Chapter 3, the senshi meet the Shittenou at last, and we learn a bit more on why Kassia (Rei) is so grumpy and how Rhoswen (Serenity) handles Apollo. And, of course, much more is coming forth... Thank you for reading! ^^

            ~Ice


	3. The Mundane and the Unusual

_The Avatars – Chapter Three: The Mundane and the Unusual_

            Kassia had gone about two steps down the hall when Ares summoned her. With a sigh, she glanced into a silver-edged mirror hanging on the wall, making sure that her makeup hadn't smeared. Her hair was perfect, as usual, raven-dark and of an unusual thickness and silkiness. She adjusted her robes and closed her eyes, feeling the power she had been gifted with welling up inside of her. In an impressive burst of reddish-gold light, she left the halls of Olympus to reappear, within seconds, at Ares's feet. 

            "Good morning, my pretty." It seemed that he was in a good mood, as he raised her up fairly quickly and smiled his usual cajoling smile. Where others saw handsomeness, Kassia saw only unscrupulous violence and amorality in his dark features.

            "It's afternoon," she corrected before she could stop herself. She ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, expecting a harsh reprimand or a slap. Even on his good days, Ares was rough. "My apologies, my lord."

            Luck seemed to be with her for once. The god laughed, drawing up a delicate wicker chair and conveying , with the pressure he placed on her shoulders, his wish that she be seated. "So it is, so it is. It _seems_ like morning to me; I've just awoken."

            Kassia sat in a graceful sweep of cloud-like material. "Perhaps a little less indulgence?" she suggested carefully.

            Ares rolled his eyes. "You women. You're all alike, immortal or not. This is Olympus, my dear Kassia. Have you not adjusted yet? There is nothing here but wine, free and flowing."

            "And the nectar, my lord?" Kassia shuddered to think of the wine the Olympians drink. It was ten times as potent as what was drunk on earth, so she could take a sip and feel the effects of an entire bottle. It was best for humans to avoid the drink if they wanted to avoid a very serious hangover the next morning.

            "Ugh. That stuff comes from flowers," he informed her. She merely nodded, awaiting his next words. "Where have you been, then? I missed you."

            Kassia glanced up warily. "With the other avatars, on Olympus. Do you object, my lord?"

            Ares shook his head. "I should have known...yes, fine, do what you like with the girls. _I_ certainly have no objections to spending time with four lovely young ladies. 

            But I used to have such high hopes of you, Kassia. I thought you would take much longer to break. Now, in the past...in the past, you wouldn't have bothered to be so polite. And the 'my lord!' You would have been sarcastic. You would have been _angry_ with me. You would have thrown more temper tantrums–and broken more of my vases." 

            Her face went tight as he scrutinized a nearby vase. "Another thing about women," he said carelessly, tossing the delicate vase from one hand to another, "is that you gossip all the time. Really, women are such busybodies. What do you possibly have to talk about so much?"

            Kassia shrugged, knowing that he wasn't really expecting an answer. "When I was in Olympus this morning, Queen Hera was...not in good humor."

            "My mother has never been in a good humor. What is it this time?" he sighed. "Must I placate her again? _I'm_ supposed to be the spoiled child, not her." 

            Her flawless features were expressionless as she answered, "Lehana suggests that King Zeus may have been involved with another mortal woman."

            He snorted. "_That's_ nothing new. You would think that she would be accustomed to such things by now." He sighed a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. "But if I'm to remain in her good graces, I'll have to endure the weeping and the raging and be the loving, sympathetic son that I am."

            She rolled her eyes discreetly as he continued, "Then, of course, I'll visit Father and tell him that Mother should be more understanding, more tolerant, more forgiving." Ares laughed mockingly. "They'll make up eventually, and he'll promise not to break her tender little heart anymore–not that she has one–but the minute some fetching girl catches his eye..."

            Kassia hid her disgust. Like father, like son. 

            "Mortal women are always more interesting than immortal ones. There are so many pluses–they have more life in them, metaphorically speaking, and they don't live as long...what more could a man want?"

            Kassia narrowed her eyes. Ares and Aphrodite's perpetually unstable relationship was off-again and had been for quite some time. That was the reason he had been in an unusually foul mood recently.

            Ares turned to smile at her, and she felt the chills crawl up her spine. "Speaking of mortal woman...come to me, my darling avatar..."

            Obeying him and hating herself to it, Kassia let him enfold her tightly in his muscular arms, cradling her against his chest. She closed her eyes, despair and agony at her surrender surfacing. "Tell me you love me, sweetheart."

            "I love you," she whispered, sinking lower and lower into self-hate.

            He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Louder, Kassia. I couldn't quite hear you that time."

            "I love you," Kassia repeated clearly, and his lips descended upon hers.

~~~~~*~~~~~            Whispers in dark hallways between conspirators, in bedrooms between lovers, and in the open air between friends spread rumors quickly. By eventide of that very day, everyone knew who Aphrodite's latest love interest–usually spoken of as her next victim–was. 

            Rhoswen was the last to hear of the news; one of the others would have told her sooner, treating it as idle gossip, but they hadn't been alone together since earlier that afternoon. Everyone always told Rhoswen everything, how could they not? Even those who were jealous of her beauty could not bring themselves to hate her, and others were easily won over by the effect of her unconscious smile, her angelic spirit. 

            However, when things of this matter were discussed...the speakers could not help but feel slightly embarrassed at Rhoswen's wide-eyed innocence. She was sitting with Demeter, goddess of the grain, her daughter Persephone, who was married to Hades, wise, gray-eyed Artemis, Mehalia, and Ayla. 

            Persephone was beautiful and well-loved but always had a melancholy smile upon her face. It was said she had come to love her lord, but Hades was a hard man to live with. In a few short months, she would have to return to her lonely palace in the Land of the Dead, and she dreaded leaving the world of the living. 

            Turning to Mehalia with a determinedly cheerful smile, she asked, "Have you heard about Aphrodite's troubles, Melia? It is said that she has been having no success in seducing Lord Boreas. But it is a near-certainty that he will submit, in the end."

            Popping a plump strawberry in her mouth, Rhoswen chewed slowly, savoring the burst of aromatic juice that oozed out of the plump flesh of the fruit. When her mouth was no longer full, she asked, "Who is Lord Boreas?"

            They all looked expectantly at Ayla, who seemed to know the name of every god and goddess in existence and what they patronized. With a slight flush in her cheeks at the attention, Ayla answered, "He is one of the more important wind gods, Rhoswen. Although all of them are less powerful and more youthful than the majority of the deities, the four more minor gods among them are Lord Auster, the Southeast Wind, Lord Africus, the Southwest Wind, Lord Calcias, the Northeast Wind, and Lord Corus, the Northwest Wind. 

            They are subordinate to Lord Boreas of the North, Lord Eurus of the East, Lord Notus of the South, and Lord Zephyrus of the West, who in turn serve the King of the Winds, Aeolus. They are brothers of a sort, born of the Titans Eos and Astraeus. And yet..." Ayla paused, casting a glance under demure lashes at Demeter.

            Demeter, as the eldest goddess present (and in truth one of the oldest goddesses alive), was treated with the most respect. All fell silent to listen to her words when they would have interrupted each other. "It is true that fraternity is not as strongly expressed among the gods as it is among the mortals, Ayla. I myself know the truth of this; there is no need to fear offending me."

            Mehalia smiled at the lovely, fair-haired woman to her right. Demeter was kind; she was a maternal goddess who cherished all growing things. She was one of the only deities Mehalia knew who did not harbor ill will towards her. Even prickly Kassia liked Demeter. 

            "But it is heard that the Wind Gods are uncommonly close. They have strong bonds as friends rather than as brothers," Persephone said, her glossy black hair shining in the bright afternoon sun. "They were not raised together as young children; they came together in their adolescent years." 

            She turned to Mehalia, who was her especial friend. It was a strange friendship they had: sad, dark-haired Persephone seemed to be the opposite of vibrant, blond-haired Mehalia, but they were almost as close as Mehalia was to her fellow avatars. "I know Rhoswen has not met any of the Wind Gods, but what about you, Melia?"

            She shook her head, and magnificent golden waves of hair cascaded everywhere. "No, and I don't intend to meet this Lord Boreas anytime soon. I would not respect any man who loves Aphrodite, for he would be a fool."

            Rhoswen turned pale at her bold words while Ayla cast her a sharp, admonishing glance but remained silent. A sudden shadow was cast over their company, and a warm, sunny laugh resounded as Apollo appeared in their midst. "Good afternoon, ladies," he greeted in his mellifluous voice. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

            Apollo, who was generally beloved among the divinities of Mount Olympus, was quickly reassured that they were delighted to have his company. It was Mehalia's turn to dart a sharp look at Ayla, who now become as cool and implacable as a glacier, as he seated himself beside Rhoswen.

            "I shall have to disagree with you on that count, Mehalia," Apollo said. "You are a woman; you don't understand how men view Aphrodite."

            "And I believe I would prefer not to know," Mehalia said with a playful smile. Apollo was a good man and her friend; he had defended her several times within and without her immediate earshot.

            Silver-haired Rhoswen had gone quite pink now, and in an attempt to put her at ease, Ayla spoke up, surprising Apollo. "Lord Apollo, we were just discussing the gods of the winds. Are you well-acquainted with them?"

            His blond eyebrows rose into fine crescents. "Oh, yes. They're a jolly sort, very good all around and fun to be around. Zephyr cuts such capers, and Eurus is astonishingly scintillating in his views of the world."

            "What we want to know is, what are they like?" Mehalia asked, sipping her tall, frosty glass of ice water. 

            "Well...Aeolus, the king, is a responsible sort when it concerns his castle and his domain. Once that's taken care of, he spends his time with his roses and charming women. Boreas is his right hand man; he's very capable. He isn't the talkative type, but he's trustworthy and dependable. 

            His protégé is Zephyr, who's always getting into the most impossible scrapes. You didn't hear it from me, but Father Zeus and Uncle Poseidon have their heads together. Zephyr's last prank was a little too extreme for their tastes. They think that matched up with a lovely Nereid princess, he'll settle down and stop cutting capers. In my opinion, it's a supreme impossibility, but I'll sit back and enjoy the ruckus when his engagement is announced."

            "I wasn't aware that gods were allowed to arrange marriages for other gods," Mehalia said slowly.

            Persephone shrugged as if to ward off a chill. "It's not a common thing, no, but it's been known to happen in certain circumstances."

            "Oh, Persephone, I'm so–forgive me," she apologized as Rhoswen took her hand comfortingly. 

            Watching awkwardly, Apollo cleared his throat. "But, um, there are still two other gods. All the women throw themselves at Eurus; they think he's the epitome of godly beauty. He's handsome, I suppose, but he's remarkably sarcastic. His tongue cuts like a sword blade.

            Then there's Notus. No one knows much about Notus, I guess, but he's the most agreeable man alive. He's also a remarkably good listener, has excellent advice. He's gotten me out of more scrapes then I'd like to say," he finished with a nervous glance at Demeter, who merely smiled indulgently.

            Relieved that the feminine crisis was over, he kissed his cousin Persephone's hand and his aunt Demeter's cheek and wished the three avatars a good afternoon before disappearing as quickly as he had come. The conversation resumed, full of frequent laughter and lighthearted jibes taken in good humor.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Lehana surfaced with a sharp gasp from the cool water, smiling blissfully as she waded near the shallows. She laughed merrily as the mud squelched between her feet and then returned to deeper water. As she walked further downstream, she smoothed her sopping hair back and washed it under the gentle waterfall with a palmful of liquified essence of flowers, drizzled liberally into her hand from a bottle she had set on a convenient rock a few yards back.

            Once she had rinsed the foamy white lather from her hair with a contented sigh, Lehana floated peacefully on her back. Glistening strands of thick, glossy brown hair fanned out in the water, gleaming with reddish lights in the hot sun's rays. She closed eyes that were the same color as the emerald grass around her and verdant green leaves above her.

            It was times like these that Lehana felt free–truly, magnificently free. 

            She was, for the most part, a social creature. Lehana loved roaming the forests and conversing with the dryads and hamadryads, wood nymphs of Mount Ida, who always had interesting things to say. Most importantly, they were all female. 

            But for this precious moment, she was all alone, floating in the middle of a lazily undulating river. Lehana felt like a tiny part of the huge expanse of rich earth and dazzling azure sky that surrounded her, and she was completely at peace with herself. 

            As usual, the moment did not last for long. An impudent gust of wind chilled her exposed body, and she dove under the water again to resume long, tidy strokes and the occasional lighthearted splashes and dives.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Notus blended in well with the trees because of his unruly mane of mahogany brown hair, and he, unlike Zephyr, dressed incongruously in a hunter's tan breeches and brown tunic. He suspected that Africus, the Southwest Wind, had sent him on yet another wild goose chase. 

            Thinking to himself that Zephyrus was spending too much time with the young, impressionable wind who had a clear case of hero-worship, Notus gently pushed aside a flowered vine that had dropped down from the sheltering tree branches. A delicate pink flower landed on his shoulder, and he plucked it off and rubbed the soft petals absentmindedly as he approached the riverbank. 

            Now, he was almost certain that Africus had been pulling a prank on him. There was absolutely no one else in the woods around him, besides a few curious deer, let alone a beautiful woman with chestnut curls and emerald eyes who hauntingly resembled his former lover... And Notus sucked in a much-needed breath as his eyes lit upon the gorgeous (and unquestionably naked) woman-who-surely-did-not exist. 

            Said imaginary woman had broken the diamond-patterned surface of the lake with ease, her eyes closed and her face full of indescribable joy as a shower of crystal-clear water droplets that rained down on her.

            Lehana, in the process of wringing out a glorious abundance of hair that reached quite a bit past her shoulder blades, turned her head sharply towards the sounds of rustling in the surrounding forest. When the source of the unnatural noise fell flat on his face a few feet from the river's edge, her face filled with an unimaginable fury.

~~~~~*~~~~~

AN: And this is the question of "do we love cliffhangers?" I don't know about you, but I do ^.~ The remainder of Lita and Nephrite's encounter will continue in the next chapter, and the other Shittenou and senshi start running into each other (although with substantially more clothing).

            I apologize for the lack of LAFS updates...I've been itching to write Avatars, and I figure that I need to churn out as much as possible before the vim and vigor fades. LAFS soon, I promise. Hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^ No more flames for this story, please; they take up valuable space (it's remarkable how this story has received more than any other of mine). Please leave any _constructive_ questions, comments, concerns, etc. :) That would be great. ^^

            ~Ice


	4. An End and a Beginning

_The Avatars – Chapter Four: An End and a Beginning_

Lehana bent her knees slightly so the waterline barely exposed her shoulders, fighting the urge to cross her arms across her chest. She was pretty sure the river was deep enough and fairly opaque, but if he didn't get lost within the next ten seconds...besides, she needed her hands free to scoop up rocks from the river bottom.

            Her frigid voice was a startling contrast to her furiously-sparkling green eyes, now the color of pale mint. "Would you be so good as to turn your back–and, preferably, head in that direction until you reach Athens?" The trip was one that would take around five months by foot, provided that he could cross over some enormous mountains and an impassable river. 

            "It might be a vast improvement if you could also trouble yourself to pick your jaw–and the rest of you–up off the ground," she suggested much more politely than she felt.

            Not quite ready to return to his senses, Notus got to his feet slowly, revealing his sometimes intimidating height, and let his night-blue gaze linger over the golden skin of her bared shoulders, the tempting curve of her neck, the attractive, full mouth that was currently pursed in a dark scowl. He was jolted back into the real world when a sharp stone whizzed past his ears. 

            "There's no need to get violent!" he protested, ducking as another one flew at his head. The first had been a warning, the second would have hit him square in the forehead had it not been for his excellent reflexes. 'At least Boreas will be pleased...if he can get his head out of the clouds,' he thought sourly. 'Women.'

            "Yes, there is!" Lehana countered furiously. 

            The only thing he could think at the moment was that, gods above, she was absolutely gorgeous–beautiful, wild, and out for a healthy amount of his blood.

            "I don't like men who spy on women in the woods while they're bathing and spend ten minutes ogling them!" she continued in an irate manner.

            Notus held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Please, forgive me. It was a complete accident, and I am _very_ sorry."

            She snorted. He was slick, tall, and handsome, and at any other time, she would have been the one admiring his voice and body–had she not been convinced of his colossal stupidity and clumsiness. "I'm sure you are. Then kindly turn around!" she demanded.

            "Well, I _would_," he shot back, "but do you really think I'm fool enough to turn my back when you're hurling rocks at me?" Sharp rocks, too. One had caught him across the cheek, and a few drops of blood were starting to ooze out of the smarting cut.

            The rock throwing ceased immediately, and Notus shuffled around so he was facing the woods. Feeling incredibly stupid, he crossed his arms stiffly and tapped his foot on the ground. He rarely made such a fool out of himself, but there was something about this girl–woman, he amended–that got him riled up.

            After a few minutes, during which he heard her hurrying into her clothes, she muttered, "Well, you _have_ given me good reason to brand you a fool, falling on your face and gaping like an idiot. You have yet to prove to me that your intellect is superior to a worm's."

            Notus spun around with a ferocious glare, but to his surprise, she had disappeared. Where had she gone? he wondered distractedly before spinning a wind that would take him back to Aeolia. The wench probably knew some secret routes through the forest, being a common woodcutter's daughter, most likely.

            When both had left, a pale-colored flower lay at the river's edge where it had flown from Notus's hands to land safely on the ground. Had he still been holding it, the delicate pink flower would have been crushed in his fall. The single blossom, not fully opened yet but holding the promise of a precious bloom, was the only evidence that remained of their meeting.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Ayla stepped away from the bed, her eyes dry and unseeing. She ignored the sympathetic chatter of the other village women as they filed around to pay their respects. Some of them hugged her, but she only felt more like crying afterwards. Many of the women hung back, afraid of her status and unfamiliar with her because of the time she spent away from home. Another time she might have cared; now, she ignored them effortlessly now.

            One woman tugged at her sleeve. "Ami, the healer, you must speak with him..."

            "Later, Bia," Ayla replied distantly. There might be time later...and there might not.

            Bia protested a minute longer, despite Ayla's stony expression, until a more understanding woman dragged her away. 

            They left, one by one, and she stood straight and tall to the end. Some of them, she knew, would gossip about her apparent callousness. She cared not. At last there were only the memories and herself left, and she wanted to drown herself in them until they saturated her mind. 

            Ayla lay down on the other bed, where she had slept only two or three days a year since she had been become an avatar. As her mother's only living family present, she would hold vigil that night, and the next morning, her mother would be burned. She did not want to think about her father, the only other living relative she knew her mother had.

            It was cold, she realized dimly around midnight, but she did not rise to build a fire. The wood was stacked neatly in a pile, waiting to be lit, and as Ayla glanced around the little house, there were traces of efficient housekeeping all around. Her mother had instilled organization and a love of order in her beloved daughter, then given her up to another woman to raise–but not to claim, never to claim.

            A soft rustling drew her attention, and she rose fluidly. Hermes stood before her in his winged cap and sandals, an expression of compassionate sorrow she was unused to seeing upon his handsome face. He had come to guide the deceased spirit down to the realm of Hades, and Ayla felt a desperate tugging at her heart when a ghostly-white form detached itself from the cloth-covered body. 

            As the transparent figure floated towards Hermes, it passed through Ayla's body, and she was bathed in the bittersweet remembrance of a gentle, sad-sweet smile and the sound of willow trees... Hermes was lit with the opalescent white glow, now in possession of the spirit. He reached out to Ayla and placed warm fingers against her chilled cheek, keeping the rule of silence. She closed her eyes and stepped away, slitting open her now-stinging eyes to watch as Hermes disappeared in the distance.

            She then lay back down on the bed, curling into a small ball, still tearless. The entire night, Ayla's eyes stayed open, but she never noticed the catlike green eyes watching her from the shadows.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Dawn came sooner than she expected that day, trailing streamers of pure, rose-golden light behind her, and she rose stiffly from the bed. Ayla scattered a handful of sweet-smelling rose petals over the sheet that covered the shrunken, emaciated figure on the low, hard bed. White roses from her mother's garden that had always grown in shadow...bedtime stories by the light of a flickering candle...baking cookies the size of her mother's palm until they were crisp and golden, eaten piping hot once they were ready... 

            The other women would be here soon. Ayla shook herself, reminding herself that she had to keep her composure. Unlike when she resided on Olympus, she was not doing it to keep face. She was refraining from crying now, because she knew once she started, she would never stop. The pain was too fresh, and she was still locked into shocked acceptance. A different kind of pain would come all too soon: unbearable, and sharp as a knife. 

            Two muscular young men lifted her mother from the home where she had dwelled all her life and carried her to the waiting altar. Ayla followed at them, the head of a procession of black-gowned mourners. Once incense was scattered liberally on either side of the head and by the feet, Ayla stood apart from them as the fire was lit. It roared and crackled, flaming with a furious light, and she was reminded of Ares's similar nature, although it was Hephaestus who had given man fire. Her thoughts meandered here and there, going from Kassia, to Lehana, to Mehalia, to Rhoswen. 

            None of them knew where she was; she had rushed away the minute she had received news of her mother's death and Athena's permission to stay as long as she needed. Nevertheless, Ayla had specifically requested that her friends not be told of the reason for her absence. They usually shared all parts of their lives with each other, but Ayla knew they had enough grief to deal with. She did not want to subject them to her own, and she planned to be back on Mount Olympus by noon.

            Suddenly, a heavy hand on her shoulder made her start and turn. Ayla looked straight into the dark blue eyes of someone she had thought she would never see again...

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Zephyrus had joined the procession quietly, his usually-vivid robes the flowing, pure white robes of a healer today. Uncharacteristically silent and sorrowful, he turned his eyes upon the lonely figure who was so slender yet stood so straight. She was strong, he thought to himself, much stronger than any other mortal–and many gods–that he knew, despite her delicate frame. And, he knew now, intimately acquainted with the messenger god Hermes. She was intriguing...and she was grieving.

            He watched as a rather short, unassuming man approached her, and then opened his eyes wide as he overheard their ensuing argument.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Ayla stiffened, speechless in outrage as she stared at the father who had been absent for most of her childhood. 

            "Daughter...I'm so...very sorry..."

            She stared at him, her heart starting to pound and her breaths coming in quick succession.

            "I tried very hard to come here–before–and yet..." He never finished his sentences; they trailed off airily, as incomplete as he had rendered her life.

            "What are you doing here?" she asked coldly, wrenching away from him. 

            "Why–I've come for your mother's funeral, Ami. Come, let us mourn together," he said, taking her hand in his clammy one.

            She stepped further away from him, her fists clenched at her side. "You have no right to be here, absolutely no right. How dare you–of all the times you could have come, it had to be this one?!"

            He stared at her in complete incomprehension. "Ami, I loved your mother as I loved you."

            "Liar!" She didn't care who was watching, how many curious, astonished, admonishing gazes were turned their way. Images of her mother's hurt pain from over the years flashed before her eyes. "You cared nothing for her, for me. You lied to her countless times, and you never kept your promises. She loved you, but she meant nothing to you."

            "Ami, I understand your grief," he said carefully, moving closer, "but your mother was very sick towards the end. Whatever she told you–"

            "She didn't need to tell me anything! I have eyes. You knew she was sick–Bia told me she sent you a message when she knew she was dying. She wanted to keep it from me, but when you knew there was no hope...you didn't even send for me! You kept me from her! I hate you! I hate you!!" she screamed, hammering at him with her fists as the tears streamed down her cheeks unheeded.

            He stood motionless, and Zephyr strode forward. He would prefer that a native of the village intercede, but if no one was going to step forward, he would be damned if he stood aside and watched. "Are you her father?" he demanded.

            "I–that is, she–"

            Fuming at his ineptitude, Zephyr pried Ayla away from her father, ignoring her flailing arms. In a surprising burst of strength, she broke away from him, ran forward, and collapsed to her knees by the smoldering fire. All that was left of her mother were the ashes...not enough closure for her. Not closure when her scoundrel of a father felt he had the right to show up. Tears obscured her vision as she wept soundlessly, feeling as if an empty, echoing hole had opened in her heart.

            Zephyr watched as the other villagers left the sobbing girl alone. Soon, only her father was left, and Zephyr had only to glare at him for a few seconds before he turned away and scuttled into a dingy-looking building. He said her name a few times, but she heeded him not. 

            Once the last remnants of the orange glow faded, he tried to help her to her feet. Her stumbling steps tore at his own heart, and he scooped her up and cradled her crumpled form against him. Ayla struggled for a few minutes until they reentered her home, whereupon he set her on the bed and she turned instantly towards the wall. 

            "Thank you. You don't have to stay," she told him, her voice hoarse and gravelly as she wiped away the last traces of her tears. She still shuddered uncontrollably under the thin blanket, and his fingertips twitched slightly to alter the air temperature. 

            "No," he agreed.

            She sat up and faced him, her eyes huge and dark in her pale face. "I know what you must be thinking–and I am horrified at my behavior as well. I am not usually this–"

            "Distraught?" Zephyr supplied gently. "It is entirely excusable."

            "No, it is not. But he–my father is a scoundrel. He was married when he met my mother and deceived her into believing that he would marry her. I am illegitimate–a bastard," Ayla spat out, to get the bitter taste off her tongue.

            He held up his hands. "You don't have to explain to me." His scorn for her father increased tenfold. The story was a familiar one; itinerant men away from home, lonely for company, sired bastards they were too ashamed to acknowledge and provide for. The children and their mothers bore the derision of their villages while the fathers walked off scot-free–often back to their lawful wives.

            Ayla's cheeks burned at his pitying tone. She really had no idea why she had started telling him...to justify herself, perhaps. She lay down again and stared at the ceiling, her eyes feeling heavy and her eyelashes sticky.

            The story was simple. Her father, an itinerant bard whose voice was barely passable, had come into their village. Ayla never understood how her sweet, gentle mother had fallen in love with such a fool, but apparently love made fools out of everyone. She had met her father five brief times over the course of ten years and disliked him instantly. He would never be someone who could earn the trust of an unwanted child. 

            Ayla had returned each winter from Olympus, and each time, her mother would ask her if she had heard from her father. The answer was always 'no;' she had long given up lying to spare her mother's feelings. From the time she had begun to understand her philandering father–understand him enough to condemn him–she had done her best to make her mother see the detestable aspects of his character. It never worked, and she had died mourning that he had not been there beside her. Ayla would never forgive him for making her mother die feeling alone and unloved.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            That night, Ayla rose from the bed and went outside to the well to wash her face. Zephyrus was nowhere to be seen, and she told herself firmly that she was relieved that he had gone. She didn't even know his name, but he was irritatingly perceptive.

            Then she frowned. No mortal man she knew was so silent in his steps...she hadn't noticed his departure. When she returned, she was annoyed to find him waiting for her. Steeling herself to be polite, she said, "Thank you for your care. Of my mother. You must be the healer Bia spoke of." 'And made eyes at,' she thought sourly. Empty-headed, self-absorbed Bia was a notorious flirt, and she had noticed how the young girls in the village stared at him adoringly. 

            "It is not necessary to thank me," he replied with a courtly bow. "You worried me–I was wondering where you had gone."

            "I just went outside to the well for a few minutes. I assure you that I am not in need a keeper, nor am I responsible to you." She was surprised at the obstinate note in her voice.

            "No, of course not."

            "Don't patronize me," she added sharply. 

            Zephyr raised his eyebrows. "I was merely concerned. You are upset, naturally, and I did not want to leave you alone."

            Ayla's temper flared when she saw the amusement in his eyes; he knew she didn't want him there. "I am perfectly fine. You can be assured I won't cause any more embarrassing scenes. In fact, I'll be leaving now."

"So soon? Are you sure you'll be all right? It is hard, I know, to lose a parent at any age." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't want your sympathy."

            He nodded. "Then I shall be going as well." 

            She nodded back in satisfaction. Good. Once he left her in peace, she could enter Athena's temple and be summoned back to Olympus. She had been away long enough, and she was losing her characteristic composure. Such a thing would not do.

            "Ami." She turned around instantly, and he smiled. "If you need me, all you have to do is call me."

            Ayla turned on her heel, feeling the heat rise in her ceeks. Ridiculous. She didn't even know his name, and this infuriating man would never hear her on Olympus. Not that she would ever call him, of course. 

            'My name is Zoisite.' 

            She spun around again, but he was gone.

~~~~~*~~~~~

AN: The next chapter, I assure you, will be more cheerful. Zephyr is–different, but don't worry. By the next meeting, he'll be established as a flirt ^^ and Ami won't be sad anymore ;; At least not openly. Hope the names aren't tripping anyone up! Zephyrus and the people of Ayla's village call her Ami, because it wasn't until she became an avatar that she was named Ayla. The reason that Ami's god isn't Hermes is because I didn't want her god to be male...to reword, it wouldn't have fit the plotline very well to have her serving a man; I preferred to have her serve a goddess, and Athena seemed like the best choice.

            Three more couples to meet in much happier circumstances! We are trying to roll speedily along... Thanks for the support, everyone! I really appreciate it :)

            ~Ice


	5. Rings and Roses

_The Avatars – Chapter Five: Rings and Roses_

            Rhoswen let out a yelp as she landed on packed dirt, bemoaning the fact that she had never been able to achieve perfect teleport. When she teleported alone, the transfer was never as smooth as the teleports of the others', but she usually managed to land fairly close to her mark. Today her luck seemed to have run out.

            She had been aiming for Ayla's home village; the petite, dark-haired girl was somewhat secretive about her whereabouts, and she was generally left to her own devices. Mehalia had told them firmly to leave Ayla alone, but Rhoswen couldn't help worrying. Ayla had never been away for so long, and it wouldn't hurt to get a tiny glimpse of her, just to make sure she was all right. 

            She stood up slowly, brushing futilely at the dirt stains on her white robes, until her hand halted in mid-action: she realized that she was surrounded on all sides for miles and miles by an endless stretch of roses. Fortunately, she had landed in between two rows of rosebushes instead of on top of them.

            When she began taking a closer look at the rosebushes, Rhoswen nearly swooned with delight at the sensory feast her eyes and nose were taking in. To her left clustered a profusion of pure-white roses; a startling contrast were their neighbors, ruby-red roses of a passionate, sensual hue. In the distance, she could see spots of champagne, pink, yellow, and dark maroon. The smell was indescribable. 

            Rhoswen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The heady perfume of a single rose was already potent; fields and fields of different hybrids made for a magnificent bouquet of scents that almost overwhelmed her nose. Engrossed in the beautiful flowers around her, she soon discovered a fantastical maze to the right hand side and a series of gold roses that were planted in a spiral to her left. Even the roses on Olympus, she thought happily, were not as lovingly tended as these.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            The worry-lines smoothed from Aeolus's forehead. Dealing with Notus and then with Zephyrus's reaction to his probable engagement had not been pleasant, but he always felt much calmer around his roses. They were imbued with his magic, which kept them safe from harsh winds and natural disasters like earthquakes and floods. As long as he willed it, they would bloom eternally, filling the palace with their fragrance.

            His spirits lifted as he watched the ethereal figure before him; the clouds of white material billowed around her, giving the impression of wings, and twin streamers of silvery hair floated out behind. Aeolus was relieved to see the all-too-human expression of baffled delight on her face. Stepping forward with an easy smile, he said, "Excuse me; may I help you?"

            Rhoswen spun around when he addressed her, her hand going to her heart. "I'm lost," she told him. 

            He had to suppress a smile at the childlike tone. "You are on the island of Aeolia," Aeolus supplied gravely.

            "Where did all these roses come from?"

            "The king planted them," he answered, sapphire-blue eyes twinkling merrily at the joke. He was somewhat miffed that she did not know who he was, but it was nothing that couldn't be rectified with a few more social visits. The Winds were already known for keeping to themselves and the private parties he held in his palace.

            Rhoswen looked around again at the roses, her eyes wide and admiring. "All of them?"

            "Every single one of them," he confirmed.

            She looked up at him inquiringly. "Are you his gardener?"

            Aeolus smirked for a moment, debating whether or not to reveal his identity. "Yes, I am," he said, having decided to remain in the role of the humble servant, "my name is Endymion."

            "I'm...Serenity," she replied, remembering her friends' stern warnings about never revealing her name to strangers. When he bowed and kissed her fingers, she pulled away, laughing. "You're very gallant for a gardener," she said without condescension. 

            He bowed again. "Why, thank you, my lady. In truth, you should be praising my liege. I'm merely an excellent imitator."

            She smiled brightly. "Suppose you tell me about this king of yours?" Rhoswen had a strong inclination towards romance, and the handsome, ebony-haired gardener and his mysterious king were to her liking.

            "Well...what would you like to know?" he asked, falling into step beside her as they strolled towards the castle.

            "Is he handsome?"

            "Very handsome."

            "And kind?"

            "That too."

            "...is he married?"

            He choked. 'Not if I can help it.' "No...he's rather young, you see. He's in no hurry to get married."

            Rhoswen sighed softly. No matter how old she was, she would never be married.

            Aeolus, who guessed that the beautiful young maiden entertained romantic visions of marriage, laughed inwardly. He wondered what Zephyrus's reaction would have been to finding her in the garden... 

            His mood sobered abruptly. Unlike Notus, he would keep his own strange run-in with a beautiful woman to himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friends; it was just that Zephyr could be overzealous, Eurus a little too sarcastic, Notus overly curious, and Boreas...well...he always told Boreas everything, but it irked him that Boreas always listened with the utmost courtesy, even to the most trivial matters, and never offered anything about his own troubles.

            Determinedly brushing his moody thoughts aside, he looked over at his companion and noticed her eyeing the neighboring apple orchard ravenously. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

            Rhoswen flushed a light pink. "I...just a little bit," she admitted.

            Aeolus laughed. "Wait one moment. I'll be right back with something for us to eat."

            When he returned, they settled on the lush green grass under the shade of a towering oak tree. Her mouth half full of buttered bread, Rhoswen asked, "I forgot to ask you–will your king mind that I've been trespassing?"

            "Not at all. He's glad of company."

            "You haven't mentioned his name once. What is it?"

             "Aeolus," he said somewhat shortly, unwilling to be drawn back into his true self. He wanted to remain simple, charming Endymion for an afternoon without the cares of kingship on his shoulders. 

            Rhoswen's eyes widened as she remembered yesterday's conversation. "The King of the Winds?"

            "The very same," he sighed, understanding the inquisitive gleam in her eyes. He was in for a long afternoon...but Aeolus admitted to himself that he didn't really mind, so long as he could sit beside her and drown himself in those lovely blue eyes.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Boreas had stormed out of Aeolia in annoyance, unwilling to endure the jests of his friends. When Boreas got angry (which, fortunately for the other winds, did not happen often), he was frightening, and everyone got out of his way. As far as he knew, Aeolus had broken the news to Zephyrus about his upcoming marriage and then fled to his refuge among the roses to do some gardening and chuckle over the antics of his friends. 

            Meanwhile, Notus was probably still telling anyone who would listen within a hundred-mile radius about the beautiful, naked woman who had risen out of a waterfall. According to his account, the naked woman pelted him with rocks from the riverbed, they had exchanged a few insults while she stood in the river unclothed, and then–had he mentioned that she had been naked?–the minute he had turned his back, she had fled. 

            Boreas stifled an impatient sigh. Notus was gallant among the women of his class and a compassionate, loyal friend who generally gave good advice, but he was also arrogant. It had been made abundantly clear to everyone that while Notus lusted after what he deemed to be a common woodcutter's daughter (common and woodcutter being the words in disfavor), he felt she was eons beneath him. Eurus had commented in his usual dry tone that she was probably eons  younger than him as well.

            He figured that Zephyrus was sulking somewhere within the palace and trying to find a way to get out of his marriage–either that or in some blonde, brainless woman's bed. And no one ever knew where Eurus was, but they were long-used to his secretive ways.

            Pausing a moment as he brushed against a vaporous cloud, Boreas glanced down at the purple-blue peak of the mountain before him. A little ways down, the snow disappeared and gave way to verdant greenery. He drifted lower, wondering if he should seek solitude in the forests, when the sound of joyful music attracted his notice to a sizeable but quaint mountain village. His spirits lifted abruptly, and he descended to join the celebration.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Mehalia looked at her reflection in the gilded mirror. A gaily-dressed village girl laughed back at her, silken ribbons as bright as her smile trailing from her hair. With another laughing, backwards glance, she snapped her fingers and disappeared.

            She reappeared at the edge of her home village, where the midsummer festivities were just beginning, and joined the throng of merrymakers heading for the village square. Cries of surprise and pleasure at seeing her rang through the air, and for a few moments, she was surrounded by old friends who clamored at her hair and clothes and then to know the news on Olympus. Mehalia, or Mina, as she was known here, wore the typical blouse and skirt that the other girls of the village were wearing for the occasion – with a few improvements.

            As she made her way through the crowd, slipping easily back into the laughter and gossip of the friends she had not seen for months, she turned a number of heads. However, many of the eager smiles soon cooled when her identity was revealed, and all but the most persistent boys turned their attentions to safer, more familiar women. 

            Mehalia noticed the hard, jealous stares of women, the somewhat envious curiosity of her friends, and the lustful stares of young men and tucked it all behind her smile. It was a day for fun, she reminded herself, for pleasure, for a day away from the constraints of Mount Olympus and Aphrodite's tiresome orders.

            She laughed lightly, the sound of musical chimes in the air, and her eyes sparkled as the sunlight over a lake surface shines. Her smile was luminous, and the light within her dazzled everyone who looked at her – even those who had scorned her and coveted her position. As she worked her magic, the simple magic of an open smile and friendly words, Mehalia felt the cares shift from her shoulders to vanish with some unseen wind. She felt better than she had in days.

            They drifted among the stalls, exclaiming in pleasure or amusement at the vendors' wares. Mehalia's village, although incomparable to the greater cities, was the largest in its vicinity and hosted the annual midsummer fete. Merchants from all over Greece were present, showing everything silks and perfumes to children's toys and lamb-filled grape leaves.

            Mehalia declined the offers of the vendors (the lowest price, they assured her, she could find no one else with prices as good as theirs) with a wide smile and empty hands, showing them that she had no money. Although disappointed, they turned away smiling with the memory of the beautiful girl with the shimmering golden hair and cornflower blue eyes. 

            Just when the most restless of her friends began complaining that her feet were tired, the sound of strings and a light, steady beat filled the air and got every foot tapping. There was always music at these gatherings, but this particular song was the beginning of the circle dances that were the delight of every village.

            Mehalia and her friends rushed towards the center of the village, where a space had been cleared and a ring of dancers had begun to take their places. Complaints of fatigue were abruptly silenced, and every foot in the vicinity was tapping to the lively beat. As the sprightly girls and somewhat awkward young men joined hands, the light reflected off the exquisite gold stars at Mehalia's ears, and she was caught up in the whirlwind of young life: full of zest, and vigor, and dreams that had not yet been told how high they could fly.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            It was during one of the long steps of the dance that Boreas happened to glance over at the ring of dancers on the village green. His sharp gray eyes widened as the long, sunshine-gilded hair flashed out in a gleaming sheet, taking in the girl's uncannily flawless features. Aphrodite, who had been constantly on his mind, fled; the altar in his mind could only hold one goddess, and this girl would be her. 

            Mehalia, unconscious of his gaze, raised her arms in perfect time for the long steps without missing a beat as she flirted lightheartedly with the village boys. None of them would mistake her intentions, for they were all flirting goodnaturedly with the understanding that everyone's spirits were light in springtime. The dance called for a shift between long and short steps; the former sequence went first, with the arms forming a "v" between each dancer and his partner, and then the long steps called upon the dancers to raise their clasped hands to form an inverted "v." 

            As required by the sound of the piping flute entering a higher range, Mehalia executed her steps with a lightness and a grace that were unparalleled by the other dancers; she seemed to float through the air, an entrancing vision of perfection.

            Dazedly, Boreas suddenly realized that he knew what Notus had been feeling – lust at first sight. He was ensnared, enraptured, enchanted by the simple garlands of blue, pink, and white flowers draped at her wrist and ribbons flying from the glorious mass of golden hair. 

            A crotchety old man, supported by a knobbly wooden cane, hobbled over to him. "A young man like you should be dancing," he remarked, jerking his head towards the colorful ring. "Are you familiar with these dances?"

            Boreas tore his gaze away from Mehalia reluctantly, inclining his head in respect to the older man. "No, I'm not. I just happened to be passing through the village," he answered. "The midsummer rites here are exceptional." 

            "They are," the village elder agreed proudly. "But stranger or not, you can give thanks to the Lady Demeter for the promise of a bountiful harvest with us, can't you?"

            He smiled ironically. The man had no idea how well he knew Demeter, who regarded all the Winds as somewhat wayward nephews. "I suppose so," Boreas replied.

            With a firm nod, the old man stated briskly, "Well, we'll still have to do something about that dancing." He caught Mehalia's eye somehow and motioned her over; she abandoned her companions immediately to join them with a curious look at Boreas. "This is... I didn't quite catch your name," he frowned.

            "I am...Kunzite," he supplied helpfully.

            "Ah. Kunzite. Teach him the steps, Mina, darling."

            Mehalia turned towards Boreas with a raised eyebrow. His face was agelessly youthful, despite the moonlight-white hair. She had seen handsome men before and approved of them whole-heartedly. She also recognized the look of lust smoldering in his eyes. "Which ones doesn't he know, Grandfather?"

            Boreas looked at her intently, and to Mehalia, he seemed to look directly into her heart, and she became flustered. "All of them."

            The village elder, whom she had addressed as "grandfather" out of custom and respect, drifted away to converse with the other graybeards, and the two were left to their own devices. Regaining her previous poise, Mehalia said, "I don't believe we were introduced properly, Kunzite. My name is Mina."

            "A pleasure." He nodded to her.

            Mehalia didn't believe for a moment that he was the average farmhand traveling through their village for work. Although he looked as awkward as a gawky adolescent youth now that he was confronted with the problematic dancing, his bearing had been distinguished and his expression grave with respect as he conversed with the old man. She could imagine him a general at a dramatic battle taking orders from his prince and giving ones he saw fit to, standing at command with his cloak flapping out behind him. 

            "About the dancing...I'm sorry to have troubled you. It really isn't necessary," Boreas apologized.

            She sent him a glittering smile. "It's no trouble. Come," she ordered, holding out her white palms in invitation. He took them in his callused ones, almost afraid to touch her, thinking he would break the slender, delicate finger-bones. "I'm afraid the last dance just ended, but we'll join in for the next one." 

            It was a partnered dance, and as the fiddle sang out the opening strains, Mehalia curtseyed and Boreas bowed at the waist as the other young men were doing. They were at the head of two lines of about thirty men and women total; there were fifteen men to Boreas's right. Their partners stood shoulder-to-shoulder to Mehalia's left. 

            As the dipping, swaying, and changing of partners began, Boreas and Mehalia never lost track of each other through the fray. She began by calling out the steps to him, but he caught hold of the rhythm easily. He held himself stiffly, but she resembled everything that was light, airy, and graceful as she drifted through the air. As he reclaimed her from her last partner-change, they matched opposite palms with him facing one way and she the opposite. Their eyes met over their touching hands.

            It was an intimate position, with their faces close and the two of them looking straight at each other. With another partner, Mehalia might have tried for a seductive, coy glance (and succeeded admirably), but with the mysterious Boreas, she merely smiled at him, trying to understand the attraction she felt for him. 

            Boreas, on the other hand, was solemn as he took in the bright innocence of her smile. 

            "The dance is ending," she remarked, suddenly breathless.

            "Thank you."

            She lit up again with that luminous inner light. "It was my pleasure," she said simply.

            "Will I see you again, Mina?" Her name on his lips...

            "Some time, I suppose," Mehalia laughed back. An old friend and flirting partner of her youth came up to claim her for the next dance, and over her shoulder, she called to Boreas, "If you're staying awhile and have the time...there's a meadow not far from this village, due north."

            "When will you be there?" he called back, his eyes straining for the last glimpse of her white skirt and fair hair. 

            Mehalia shrugged, already turning into a spin with her new partner. "Day after next."

            "I will come; wait for me." Then he lost her to the whirlwind of dancers as graceful and colorful as butterflies.

~~~~~*~~~~~

AN: The first village dance is modeled after a Spanish one known as Sardanas...the second is just a figment of imagination...somewhat based on a few square-dancing steps. I doubt that they had fiddles and flutes back then, but we'll call it poetic license ^.~

            This is undoubtedly the longest Minako/Kunzite scene in the history of my writing...and frankly, it boggles my mind ^.~ Next chapter, we will finally get to the much-neglected Rei/Jadeite scene and some more Ami/Zoi for the wonderful fans out there ^^. Thank you for reading, and Happy Holidays!

            ~Ice


	6. Lost and Found

The Avatars – Chapter Six: Lost and Found

            Kassia, stiff and sore, knelt gingerly in the prickly grass. The sharp needles made her tender flesh throb, but she was too tired to do anything more than stay put and let her silken fall of black hair pool around her, providing what meager protection it could from the world. 

            That morning, she had awakened to a usual scenario: Ares was gone, to the gods knew where – he never saw fit to tell her, and she had been left with her aches and pains and the room of shattered dreams. While she had been putting the room to rights, picking up the cushions and righting the furniture, Kassia happened to glance at her reflection in a mirror hanging on the mail. What she saw hurt more than the physical pain: inside the mirror was a defeated woman who had shrunk in upon herself, who had built walls so high around her battered soul that they would never come down... Who she saw frightened her.

            Kassia pressed her hands against her face, trying to stifle the moans tearing out of her throat. A gushing waterfall of tears followed suit, and she crumpled onto her side, curling up into a ball. She was reduced to this indignity, this pitiful existence that haunted her daily. And the last remnants of her pride, all that youthful pride that her elders had told her would never get her anything but enemies, was the only thing allowing her to keep up a relatively normal front for her friends – the friends who knew nothing of what she suffered, because she couldn't tell them.

            Once the tears had stopped pouring out of her eyes, leaving them redder than before, Kassia staggered upright and over to the shallow pond to splash water on her face. She closed her eyes as she reached the muddy edge of the pond, unwilling to see her reflection again. It was time to return to Ares's quarters: it would mean more trouble than it was worth to let anyone see her this way. She had made the mistake of letting it happen once, and even though he had not found it, she knew she could never let it happen again.

            It was Demeter who had seen her stumbling down the hallway with one eye squeezed shut. Her left eye had been puffy and bloodshot, and the colors purple and green featured prominently around her blackened eye. There had been another bruise along her right cheekbone, and her lower lip had been swollen. 

            When the goddess had asked her how she had hurt herself so badly, Kassia had replied that in the dark, she had fallen down a flight of stairs... She hadn't dared to look into Demeter's eyes as she said it, but the goddess had helped her back to her rooms and only advised her to put certain ointments on her scrapes. To this day, Kassia was unsure of how much Demeter had guessed, but she was sure that she had said nothing.

            That had been one of her earliest days on Olympus. Ares's beatings had gotten less severe over time, especially once he had "broken her." Now, he seemed bored with her, demanding that she rejuvenate the dauntless spirit she had once possessed, and more and more intent on re-courting Aphrodite. He was also extremely careful to inflict pain on her only where her clothes would cover the hurts...

            Kassia looked down at herself dully, noting the green and brown stains on the white folds. Aloud, she said, "And this is what is considered one of the most fortunate women alive." She struggled to hold back more tears. The white she always wore mocked her, professing a purity she knew she no longer possessed. She hated Ares with a passion she had never thought possible – a hate that helped to sustain her through her miserable days – but she hated herself even more.

            A strong gust of wind whipped the folds of her gown around her, and Kassia winced as she was blown back several steps by the strangely-violent wind. It rustled through the grasses and growled a challenge to the tall trees; some of their branches snapped and came flying Kassia's way. She ducked less agilely than she normally would have, and once the wind settled down again, she heard an almost inaudible cheep coming from somewhere below.

            Kassia bent down on her hands and knees and began searching for the bird. She loved birds...had always envied their graceful flight, their unattainable freedom. A crow, clearly not a baby but somewhat smaller than an adult, hopped away from her with one wing held out at an odd angle. She had dealt with such injuries before...if she could splint the wing, there was a good chance that he would be able to heal and fly away again, if he rested the wing and didn't tear the muscles trying to fly before it was feasible.

            Kassia glanced at herself dubiously, unsure of whether she was up to the challenge of it today. With a shrug, she snuck up on the bird as noiselessly as she could, ignoring the pain that came with keeping her body tense. At last, she grasped the bird deftly, trying to ignore its angry, frightened caws and savaging claws. 

            "Are you all right?" a masculine voice asked from behind her.

            Still managing to keep a hold on the crow, Kassia whirled around, crouching into a defensive position.

~~~~~*~~~~~

            Eurus knew he had startled the girl, but he hadn't expected her to resemble some cornered animal as well. Holding up his gloved hands to show that he meant her no harm, he spoke slowly, "You shouldn't be trying to hold the bird without gloves. Your hands, are they hurt?"

            All he could see was a long mass of raven-dark hair and luminous purple eyes from behind that curtain, peering out at him. In one long, fluid movement, she threw her hair behind her and stepped back, staring at him. 

            Thinking that she was perhaps some simple little creature kept here by sympathetic, aged grandparents, he repeated, more slowly, "You hands, are they hurt?"

            Instantly, his belief was nullified, for her voice was cultured and her words perfectly intelligent. "No, thank you; I'm perfectly all right." As he advanced towards her, Kassia held the crow, which was still bent on slashing her fingers to shreds, out in front of her. 

            Eurus nodded, although one dark blonde eyebrow was raised in skepticism. Unfortunately for her, he had been able to see the dark circles and tear stains on her face since her hair was no longer shielding it. Trying to figure out how to deal with the two wild creatures before him, he came to the conclusion that a harsh interrogation would do nothing but provoke the woman – she really had marvelous eyes, he had decided after only a few seconds of seeing them – and it really was none of his business.

            There was any number of things that could have caused her distress. It could be unrequited love, but he doubted that she would have helped the bird while swimming in self-pity. From what he saw of her, she didn't seem like the type to cry lightly over insignificant details.

            She could be an abused wife or daughter, which seemed more likely, but he could see no injuries on her except the open wound in her eyes. Eurus despised men who hit their woman, whether it was her husband, her lover, or her father. But even if she wanted his help, which she clearly did not, he knew the ways of life. She would be disgraced in front of her entire village, her entire family would be dishonored as the townsfolk whispered about how they could have let this happen to the girl, and the resulting chaos and probable homelessness would do her more harm than good. 

            And yet, there was Hestia's temple, which took in maltreated girls... Eurus promptly decided that he would speak with her at the earliest opportunity. For the moment, he removed the usual sarcasm from his voice and spoke gently. "Here, why don't you give me the bird," he offered. "These gloves are quite strong, and your hands are getting quite cut up."

            Kassia, still looking at him warily, gratefully transferred the bird into his outstretched hands. "There was a very strong wind a few moments ago...it was very strange, really. I think a branch may have snapped off a tree and hit his wing."

            Eurus flushed, but she didn't seem to notice. That wind had been him, in a foul mood over the predicaments of his friends. He had registered the bird falling to the ground somewhere behind him and instantly taken human form to find it – only Kassia had come across the creature before him with, apparently, the same intention. 

            "I think we should splint his wing," she continued. "Only, I don't have anything with me to use to bind the wing to a splint."

            After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Come with me. There's a cottage just a short distance from here where I live for...part of the year, and I have materials there." Walking on without waiting for her to follow him, he prodded the bird gently, easing it into a more comfortable and trying to calm it down.

            Kassia stood still for a moment, letting the sunlight and the man's warm concern for the bird fall in waves over her. If he turned out to be an insane murderer with evil designs, all she would have to do was say Ares's name. Ares's wrath would certainly be great – directed towards both her and this mystery man, but she would rather have him angry at her than dead. She really didn't think it was fair to sic Ares on anyone, but if the man was going to murder her, than he would deserve it. 

            And if he was just a nice, _harmless_, kinder-than-average man, there would be no need to call upon Ares to save her. Of course, the odds of that being true weren't very good, but she had always been somewhat of a risk taker. Her current fatalism only added to it.

            "Are you coming?" he called, finally realizing that he couldn't hear her footsteps behind him.

            She ran to catch up, and her hair flashed out behind her. She smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry...I drifted off for a minute there."

            He stared at her, and his azure blue gaze was somewhat unnerving, but she met his eyes unflinchingly. It had registered, in some distant portion of her mind, that he was extremely handsome – a little too handsome, Kassia concluded. She had learned, long ago, that handsome men were dangerous. This one looked as though he knew he was handsome, and the arrogant tilt of his nose and the curling fair hair confirmed it. So far, he hadn't done her any harm, but her philosophy was the sweeter they were in the beginning, the fouler they were at the core.

            "Who are you?" she asked abruptly, surprising herself out of her trance.

            Similarly, he seemed to realize that they had halted on the path to stare at each other for several minutes in unblinking silence. He scrambled for a pseudonym. "My name is Jadeite," he said at last. Unable to bow with a very feisty crow on his hands, he inclined his hand formally. "And you?"

            Oh yes. Definitely one of the forum politicians with their polished manners and perfect etiquette. She could imagine him sitting on a council with other dignified-looking men, his clothes spotless and his manner stiff and uncompromising. His claim of living at the cottage part of the year made more sense, if he was the type to escape from the city for some peace and quiet – or perhaps from a nosy wife with a particularly desirable mistress.

            He was still looking at her, and it was Kassia's turn to blush. "Um...ah...I'm Rei," she said in a rush, then was appalled – what had she told him her birth name for? And yet, it was the first thing to come to mind... Kassia was the broken woman, the avatar who was easily recognizable, especially to this city man. As Rei, she could pretend to be her former self: lively, defiant, and she didn't care if he thought she was somewhat eccentric.

            "I don't think I've heard that name before," Eurus said, trying to make conversation. He wondered if she was lying about her name, as the hesitation indicated.

            About to panic, she tried to calm herself down. Orphans' names were often irregular, and as long as she could remember, Rei had been her name. She should have chosen a normal name to tell him... "Yes, well, it's the name I was given at birth, and I'm afraid it can't be altered now," she said with determined cheerfulness. "And what about 'Jadeite?' 'Rei' is not much stranger; in fact, I believe it is less unusual than Jadeite!"

            He laughed, and the unrestrained laughter startled her with its richness of tone and amusement. "That is true."

            They reached the humble dwelling before long, and Kassia peered inside cautiously as she held open the door for him, as he was burdened with the bird. There was no mistress in sight; in fact, there were no feminine touches about the home. To her surprise, it was neither luxurious nor a colossal mess. The table was clean, the floor swept, and the furniture simple and carved from cherry wood.

            Eurus handed the crow, who was still struggling to get free – although it was looking somewhat defeated – to Kassia. "Here – I'll only be a minute. Let me get you a pair of gloves and some cloth to bind the wing." Without waiting for her reply, he disappeared into the other room of the cottage and began opening and closing drawers.

            She heard him rummaging around in the other room, and she smiled as she stroked the crow's glossy feathers and listened to the bumps and thuds that accompanied his search. It was an unusual calm that had descended over her that day; it could be partially attributed to the fact that she had cried all the emotion out of her and was now exhausted, and it could also be the cause of the man – Jadeite. It had been a very long time since she had been among mortal men; unlike the other avatars, she had never returned to her home after ascending to Mount Olympus for the very first time.

            Under her breath, Kassia crooned to the distraught bird the melody of a childhood tune. It was her earliest memory, the haunting, sad-sweet tune. At first, she thought it had been one of the temple priestesses, but after some questioning, she discovered that none of them knew the song – it must have been her birth mother, wherever she was, who had sung the song to her. The melody caught her up in its spell, as it always did, and her soft singing grew more audible as she closed her eyes and opened her darkened soul to let in the light.

            As the line swelled to a crescendo, she opened her eyes to find Eurus standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face. For a moment, her chin lifted defiantly, as if to ask "what do you think you're looking at?" Then her face flushed slowly, and she looked down at the crow cradled in her hands. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought it might calm him down."

            The odd look on his face disappeared, leaving it unreadable as ever. "It was not a disturbance," he said briefly. He set down the appropriate materials needed for splinting the wing and a pair of gloves that looked as if they might actually fit her. She didn't know it, but while his back had been turned in the other room, he had worked on creating gloves to fit her. After more silence, Eurus raked his hand through his already-tousled hair and said, with a nod at their patient, "You seemed to have succeeded. Wild animals seem to respond if they hear gentleness in a voice... I've always thought them to be more responsive to women than men."

            She nodded, with a somewhat perplexed look on her face, and they began the exhausting process of splinting the wing. Eurus did most of the work; she soothed the crow by stroking its feathers and helped Eurus hold him down on the table. Once or twice Eurus stopped to wipe the sweat beads from his forehead, but Kassia barely moved an inch. Neither of them spoke during the tiring ordeal; the only sounds were made by the bird, who had renewed his struggles.

            Just as they finished, Kassia felt the familiar, detested pull of Ares's will. She stood with a gasp, knocking her chair backwards as everything rushed back to her. She had believed for one afternoon that her life could be normal, that she could be someone she was not. It would never happen. He would never leave her alone...he would haunt her to the end of her days.

            Meanwhile, Eurus was looking at her with concern. "Rei. Rei! Are you all right?"

            She stared blankly at him, and the calm descended over her once more. It was the same false front she was tired of using, the one even her friends failed to see past. "Of course. I'm fine. I'm sorry, I just remembered – I'm expected to be at home now."

            Definitely the victim of a warden of a husband, he decided. Standing as well, he righted the chair and grasped her hand. "Thank you for your help," he said, then lifted her hand to his lips.

            "It was my pleasure," she responded distantly, the skin of the back of her hand prickling with unease. Kassia could see that there were many women who might have fallen prey to his casual, automatic charm, and he would never have noticed them. Even now, he had turned his attention back to the crow, figuring that she would leave on her own accord.

            Suddenly, he said her name just as she was passing through the threshold of his home.

            She turned back to face him, surprised. "Yes? Was there something else?"

            He paused for a minute, as if considering the propriety of his words. "If you ever need anything..either I will be here, or the place will be empty and at your disposal." He didn't mention that his power would notify him if she stepped foot inside the cottage, and he could be there instantly, if he wished it.

            Kassia was speechless, taken aback by his offer and by his perception that something was not right. "I need the help of no man," she said finally, and walked out of the door with finality in her steps.

            He looked after her thoughtfully and then asked silently, 'And the help of a god?'

~~~~~*~~~~~


	7. Blood, Duty, and Tears aka Two Castles

_The Avatars – Chapter Seven: Blood, Tears, and Duty a.k.a. Two Castles_

            Zephyr stood just inside the double doors that led out into a railed embrasure, watching but not seeing the bloody rays of the sinking sun spread across the darkening sky. The steady dripping of blood was soft but constant; he ignored both the sound and the pain. Now that one of the doors he was standing before had lost some of its gorgeously-tinted panes, he had a perfect view of the sunset. 

            He had no fear that a small fragment of glass could have pierced into his bloodstream, traveled to his heart, and killed him – gods wouldn't die; couldn't die. But they could feel pain. Zephyr's lips twisted at the thought. Yes, scores and scores of pain. 

            Like all of the gods and most mortals, he knew the fates of Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Prometheus. Tantalus, forever tempted by the water just beyond his reach that would quench his raging thirst...Sisyphus, who would never cease his tiresome, pointless task...and the one who perhaps deserved the most pity of all, Prometheus, who was chained on Mount Caucasus and had his liver torn out daily by the cruel, savaging beak of a vulture. 

            His agony was of an entirely different nature. His unhurt hand rested on the window ledge, the flesh under his nails bloodless from the pressure he was exerting on the cool stone. Zephyr's outrage over the news of his betrothal had long faded – now his anger burned low and hot, like glowing orange embers on a deceptively-cool hearth. He recalled, with some regret, the wreck he had made of Aeolus's study. The brunt of his fury had unleashed itself upon the room; he had called up wild gales like those that moved inland from the sea with the strength of hurricanes and the destructiveness of tornadoes... Distantly, Zephyrus wondered if Aeolus would be able to put the room back in order.

            Notus's pleas for reconsideration and mediation had gone largely ignored. Aeolus had watched with level eyes, his arms crossed over his chest to protect himself from the pain that reverberated from doing this to his friend. It had taken both Boreas and Eurus to restrain Zephyr. They would have been strong as mortal men, but as they were gods, their strength was exceptional. Zephyrus, in all his wild rage and unthinking temper, had been unable to resist their combined power. 

            They had seated him again forcibly, keeping hands glowing with azure blue and fog gray power on his arms until Aeolus had walked out of the room. Zephyrus had shoved away from them and out of his chair, breathing harshly.

            By the time Aeolus returned, Zephyr was ready to argue and more composed but far from calm. Most of their discussion had taken place during that second meeting. Afterwards, Boreas had planned to let Zephyr pound him in a training session, since any injuries he incurred could be healed instantly with minimal pain, but Eurus knew. He knew it wouldn't have worked this time, and he watched him walk away with those cool blue eyes. 

            Zephyr's mouth twisted again. Clever Eurus, who always knew everything. Of the five wind gods, they had the most friction between them. When they got along, it seemed like the perfect friendship. When they didn't, all hell broke loose. One of the attributes Zephyrus resented most about his friend was his iron control, the control that he himself did not possess. He wanted to feel alive, to feel the strongest emotions at all times, and that was how he lived. 

            Fortunately, Boreas and Eurus had persuaded Notus not to go after him. It was Notus, oddly, who understood the least about them. He was always ready to make peace, to flirt with pretty girls, and to waste his time in frivolous pursuits...and he still did not understand Zephyr. 

            At first, it had been the idea of marriage that had so disturbed Zephyrus. Out of the best known-deities, only Zeus and Hera, Poseidon and Amphitrite, Hades and Persephone, and Aphrodite and Hephaestus were married. Zeus and Hera's marriage was something of a joke – it was the favorite pastime of idle gods to gossip about who was Zeus's latest paramour and how Hera would act, judging by her previous behavior. Even Poseidon, who professed to love his queen, had had many lovers and sired other children. 

            Aphrodite and Hephaestus's marriage was a different sort of joke. It was an accepted fact that Aphrodite would never take her marriage vows seriously and that Hera had wedded her to her crippled son to safeguard her husband from Aphrodite's charms. Whether or not Hephaestus was aware of his wife's infidelity was a widely-disputed topic within some circles. Personally, Zephyrus thought no man could be so dense when Aphrodite was so transparent, but he felt pity for the kindly, disfigured god. He spent his days laboring in the forge to do the bidding of the gods, making beautiful pieces in his spare time for the wife that would never love him.

            The only "pure" marriage that seemed to exist was the one of Hades and Persephone, and he had kidnaped her and tricked her into remaining in the Underworld with him. Gods didn't marry lightly, because eternal love, in its most literal sense, was practically nonexistent. Zephyrus closed his eyes, remembering his angry words to Aeolus.

*flashback*

            _Livid, Zephyr whipped around – the air currents around him tumbled over each other tempestuously, ruffling his hair and his clothes. "How can you do this to me?!" he demanded. "You cannot wed me to some naiad I don't even know!"_

_            His king regarded him gravely. "You know I have that power, as you are my vassal, Zephyrus." The golden spiral symbol on his skin shone even brighter; Zephyrus's own emblem was blazing with the strength of his emotion._

_            "You don't have the right," he countered hotly. "Even among mortals, a marriage is a binding contract. Do you not understand?! No god has ever annulled a marriage. You are trapping me for eternity."_

_            The sorrow Aeolus needed to keep at bay flashed over his face. _

_            Zephyrus noticed it, in his fury, and took his chance. "Why are you doing this to me, Aeolus? You yourself understand the restrictions kingship places upon you – why are you chaining me?"_

_            Aeolus hesitated. So it had come to this, after all...and he would have to tell him the brutal truth. "I didn't have a choice," he admitted heavily._

_            He responded with a rude phrase that clearly conveyed his disbelief._

_            "It was either I discipline you, or the great gods would do it for me! You brought this on yourself, Zephyrus. You left me no choice. The lesson they mean to teach you is one of responsibility and one of fidelity."_

_            Shock – anger – denial. All flitted over his face within the passage of a few moments. "I have done nothing that other gods have not done before."_

_            One of the other three, for the first time, spoke. It was Boreas. "That doesn't condone your behavior, Zephyr. Men are naturally jealous – gods are even more so, and very possessive. That business with a married goddess..."_

_            "That was once," he protested, "and I would never have touched her had she claimed she was unhappy with her husband."_

_            "That is no justification," Aeolus said sternly. "You were betrayed by the goddess Fraus to Zeus, and you know she, as his niece, holds great sway over him."_

_            "Look at Aphrodite! Look at how many affairs she's had with men, married or not, mortal or gods."_

_            Eurus, who had watched everything unfold with his usual dispassionate expression, spoke up. "It all depends on who holds the power. Aphrodite, as one of the great goddesses, has power – you are a lesser god, and a young one at that."_

_            "Then gods are hypocrites," Zephyrus snarled, enraged that where other gods had done much worse than him, he was being punished most severely._

_            "And all men are liars," Aeolus confirmed calmly. "What made you think otherwise?" His sapphire blue eyes held his vassal's firmly until the latter looked away._

*end flashback*

            Zephyrus was left with the sick, humiliating feeling of helplessness. The thought of marriage meant less to him than the fact that even Aeolus had been disappointed in him, that Boreas had disapproved of his actions. It hurt him deeply to know they thought so low of him. "How did it get this far?" he whispered to himself. "It is a terrible, terrible thing to have your own friends despise you." None of them understood; they would never understand him.

            By admitting the pain he felt, it was the closest he would ever come to acknowledging his broken heart. 

*flashback*

            _"So what are you going to do, then?" Aeolus demanded, his darkened eyes smoldering. "Refuse to marry the girl? Become a disloyal husband so Zeus will have even greater reason to punish you?"_

_            Zephyr had once thought himself to be in Zeus's favor...the great Thunderer did like his style, his loose philosophy concerning women, and his cheek, but Zeus was also fickle – the phrase "out of sight, out of mind" fit him best. No wonder he forgot his wife the minute she left the room. _

_            Facing Aeolus, the copper-haired god said coldly, "No. Contrary to your expectations, I will marry the girl, if it is your will. And I will be a faithful husband until the end of time – but I will be miserable every day of my life, and you will live with the knowledge that it is you who inflicted such unhappiness upon me."_

*end flashback*

            Perhaps that parting shot hadn't been quite fair, but it had been true. Zephyr sighed deeply. Aeolus's guesses that he would either rebel against the great gods until they bodily forced him to the altar or be a lying, cheating, scum of a husband only confirmed Zephyrus's thoughts to what a low opinion the ebony-haired man had of him.

            Tapping his fingers on the iron latch, Zephyrus followed the slow descent of Apollo's flaming chariot idly, sharpening his vision to catch a glimpse of the fire-maned steeds. Their pawing hooves and tossing heads held his attention until they disappeared past the line of the horizon. 

            At last, Boreas's footsteps sounded at the very end of the hall. He had purposefully teleported some distance away to warn Zephyrus of his presence. Lifting his head, the West Wind stared at his mentor piercingly. The last rays of the dying seem seemed to have settled on Boreas's tall frame; his silvery hair was gilded with the lightest touch of gold, and there seemed to be a radiance in his grave features that Zephyr had not seen there before.

            "Mother was always worried about you, you know," he said, his voice echoing in the shadowy depths of the hall. Their childhood had been a very long time ago, and Boreas, as the oldest, remembered more than the others. It relieved Zephyr, for a moment, that he had chosen to start with some unimportant childhood recollection instead of badgering him about the marriage.

            "You were such an odd child – lively, and so capricious, but...you could see it in your physical form: the litheness, the slenderness. It always seemed as if you were a touch more fragile than the rest of us, especially compared to Notus – he always seemed more robust, and it was emphasized because he was closest to you in age."

            Flushing slowly, Zephyrus snapped, "Gods don't die. She needn't have worried about my 'fragility.'"

            Unperturbed, Boreas said soothingly, "Of course not, but she feared you might become a cripple, like Hephaestus. What she didn't understand was that you felt things more strongly than the rest of us. I wouldn't call it a handicap, per se, but you were always the most sensitive, at heart." His eyes bored into Zephyrus's disconcertingly. "You seem to be different now, but you aren't fooling everyone."

            He shifted uncomfortably, not knowing whether to be relieved or distressed at this spark of understanding that Boreas had exhibited. So he did know...

            "So you felt things too strongly once and decided it would never happen again, didn't you? You tell yourself you live for the moment, but you never do it. All you seem to be interested in is women...but none of them have ever meant enough to you. You don't let them come close enough to hurt you. If you close them off, they can't hurt you, is that right?" Boreas shook his head. "Were you thinking of spending all eternity this way, flitting from woman to woman and never letting any of them into your heart?"

            Zephyr's face was suffused with heat from embarrassment and also from shock at hearing Boreas talk about such a strange subject. The topic had never come up between them before, and he couldn't remember the last time when Boreas had even used the word "love" in a sentence.

            He had also come a little too close to comfort, and Zephyrus pulled back from confiding in Boreas. It was Boreas he had always tagged along after, Boreas who he had always wanted to be like. But he wouldn't forget what today had revealed about his friends' opinions about him. 

            "I don't see how it's any of your business," he said coldly, shoving his ruined hand into his pocket and ignoring the white-hot streaks of pain that jolted across his hand

            "As you say," Boreas replied. "You are expected at Poseidon's palace at your earliest convenience." He took his leave of his moody friend then and returned the way he had come, first by foot and then by magical transport. The West Wind was left to stew and heal his injured hand.

            At last, Zephyrus turned away from the velvet-dark sky. His eyes were hardened emeralds, glittering and opaque, and as he strode down the hall to the transfer portal, he whispered, "You are still my king, Aeolus, and I once followed you with love and trust, but no longer. You have betrayed my trust, and you will never know what you lost."

~~~~*~~~~

            Ayla's expression was icily serene as she nodded coolly to a few of her acquaintances in the bustling halls – they were busy even at this hour of the night. Before long, she had delivered her message to Amphitrite, who had thanked her for her trouble and dismissed her. 

            Just as she was about to return to her quarters on Mount Olympus for a long-desired rest, a familiar voice called her name, and she turned with a tired smile. "Lady Michiru," she said formally with a curtsey. 

            Hiding her exasperation, the lesser princess all but dragged her into her room. "Ayla, is all that protocol necessary?"

            "Of course," she replied, "you know my reasons." Noticing that Michiru herself a bit perturbed in comparison to her normal composure, she laid a hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?" Her perceptive blue eyes scanned the sea princess's clothing. It was much more elaborate than usual, a filmy green gown encrusted with pearls and emeralds. 

            "Well – not really. No, I don't believe you can call it _wrong_...it's just that...Ayla, Poseidon and Zeus have arranged a marriage for me," she said pensively. "It's to take place very soon."

            Ayla stared at her. "With whom?"

            "Lord Zephyrus, the West-Wind. Do you know him?" Michiru spoke as calmly as if she was introducing two dignitaries at a formal occasion.

            "No, we've never met. Did he...seek your hand?"

            "I have not seen him in several years. Four decades, at the very least, and we were not well-acquainted. No, I believe this marriage is intended as a sort of punishment for him. The Wind Gods are of good repute, but he is known to be the wildest. I hear there was some trouble with a woman a while back, and a wife of one of the lesser gods. He is rumored to be very charming, very handsome, and a great flirt. They hold I will have a...calming influence on him."

            Her description assured Ayla that this was the type of man she had always disliked. Sliding her arms around her friend carefully, she whispered, "Oh, Michiru, I'm so sorry."

            She held tightly to the smaller woman for a moment, then drew away quickly. 

            "You don't seem as upset as one might expect," she ventured cautiously.

            The beautiful princess shrugged slender shoulders over which her aquamarine hair cascaded with great effect. She sat down at the vanity and picked up a hairbrush, running it through her curls. "I have to prepare to meet him," she stated, "he'll be here quite soon. Would you mind giving me a hand?"

            Ayla walked over, surveying the silver net decorated with interspersed gemstones of varying hues of blue and green. She worked methodically, running the brush through her friend's hair in gentle, rhythmic strokes. 

            With a sigh, Michiru surveyed her reflection in the mirror. "I'm not so upset, because I always knew something like this would happen. And who I am to dispute the will of King Poseidon? As an ocean goddess, I am subject to his will. It's not so bad," she said with an attempt at a smile, "perhaps we will find we have similar interests."

            "But this is something that will last forever," Ayla said softly.

            "I know." They were quiet for a few minutes; Ayla adjusted the twinkling net and stepped away, setting the brush down with a soft clink. "Thank you."

            "It was my pleasure." After some deliberation, she asked, "Have you spoken with Haruka?"

            "Oh yes. But she also recognizes the futility of defiance." 

            A flurry of knocks sounded, interrupting their conversation. A messenger entered, bowing first to Michiru and then making a shallower bow to Ayla. "Lady Michiru, your presence is requested in the throne room."

            "Thank you," she told him with a serene smile. He left as quickly as he had come, and Michiru crossed the room to the now-open door. With a backwards glance, she said, "I've kept you from your duties, Ayla...forgive me."

            "No. Athena sent me with a message for Amphitrite; I had no other tasks."

            She nodded. "Tell the others I said hello."

            "Of course. I wish you well, Michiru. I hope Lord Zephyrus is deserving of you."

~~~~*~~~~

            Once Michiru was on her way, Ayla retreated to one of the underwater gardens, her heart heavy with worry for her friend. Suddenly, a rustling noise alerted her to someone else's presence, and she stood warily, eyeing the waving seaweed. 

            To her surprise, the infuriating healer who had been in her mother's village emerged. He looked unapproachable, dressed in fine garments and wearing an irate expression. When he made eye contact with her, she shivered slightly at the force of his gaze before bowing her head. "Lord Zoisite." 

            He blinked, trying to remember where he had seen her before. He never forgot a pretty face, but he was certainly preoccupied at the moment. Then it struck him, and he smiled guardedly. "Ami, isn't it?"

            "Yes. It's an odd coincidence that I found you here... when I made inquiries, I was unable to receive a satisfactory answer as to your whereabouts."

            Clever woman, he thought. She looked much better than the last time he'd seen her, which was a very good thing, but he didn't appreciate her poking her pert little nose into his business. "Yes, well, I work mostly as an itinerant healer," he said with a roguish grin. "It makes sense that I would be hard to track down. Was there a reason you were looking for me?"

            Her cheeks warmed out of anger and embarrassment. Tossing her head slightly, she replied, "Yes, I meant to thank you for your kindness to my mother, but you were amazingly elusive."

            "Then I apologize for the inconvenience."

            His smile needled her, as did his smooth tone. He made her so angry and for no good reason, but it was hard for her to dispel her first impression of him – the warmth, the gentleness. It was hard to reconcile this charming, suave courtier with that image.

            When she remained silent, Zephyr said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have some business to attend to at the moment." He bowed deeply, and she was forced to return the courtesy.

            "I'm so sorry to have taken up your time." 

            He was suddenly embarrassed for having provoked her, but it was so hard to resist, and he had been in such a bad temper...

            Crossing her arms, she waited for him to leave, staring determinedly at a sea anemone. Suddenly, a warm, callused hand cupped her cheek, and she looked up at him in surprise, her blue eyes going wide like a cornered fawn's. "You look much recovered, Ami. I'm glad."

            Although she did not step away, her eyes narrowed even as her skin warmed under his touch. "One cannot cry forever, you know."

            "Especially not one as beautiful as you," he retorted. 

            Her eyes widened before she turned scarlet and finally stepped away from him as propriety demanded. He was dangerous, as she had known all along. "Your urgent business?" she inquired tartly.

            He smiled at her, and it was the same smile he had first given her, without malice or scorn. "I have all the time in the world," he said, and it was true. 

            "Nonetheless, since you have reminded me... Goodbye, Ami. Should you ever need to find my...elusive person again, you might inquire here for someone of my description. It seems that I will be frequenting the palace quite often in the next few months." His eyes darkened slightly, and he lifted her hand to his lips before he stalked away. She was left standing in the garden with an annoyed look on her face and proceeded to rub violently at the skin on the back of the hand he had kissed.

~~~~*~~~~

AN: Whew...heavy stuff in the beginning of the chapter, and then some nice Ami/Zoi friction. A lot more of Zephyrus's character has been revealed ^^ and I'm inching away from the Ami is shy, sweet, etc. etc. image... Unfortunately, Zoi is a little too preoccupied to notice at the moment. 

            More fun, ominous foreshadowing that the friendships in this story have eroded slightly – for example, notice that none of the senshi have mentioned to each other their encounters with the Shittenou...

            Two quick things: Fraus is actually the Roman goddess of treachery, but I couldn't find her Greek counterpart and didn't have the time to search for it when I was writing this...if anyone puts the effort into finding out, I would love to replace her with a Greek goddess. Also, Michiru's name remains the same because there are no suitable M-names of ocean goddesses for her that I could find...and if I changed it to something unrecognizable, I think there would be a lot of complaints ^.~

            Next chapter, Mehalia and Boreas have their re-meeting, and the ever-clueless Notus (poor Neph...) will once again run into "the forest urchin." Thank you for reading! ^^

            ~Ice


	8. Temples and Torments

The Avatars – Chapter Eight: Temples and Torments

She ran her hands over the glossy rosewood of the doors that felt satiny-soft under her fingertips, inhaling the heady incense that pervaded the temple grounds. A sense of peace radiated outwards; although the area surrounding the temple was filled with sound from the rattling wagons and the raucous townsfolk, the hidden realm inside the doors was ghostly still. Silence reigned there, as well as a certain tranquility that planted itself in the hearts of the temple's inhabitants and stayed with its visitors for several days after their visits.

As she paused before the large double-doors of the temple, Kassia ignored the early-morning crush of the farmers getting their produce to the markets, harried servants on errands, and the inevitable collisions that occurred in the crowded streets. Her fingers splayed over the smooth wood of the doors, passing over the grooves and carvings that told the history of the gods. Here, she touched with her index finger the creation of the world, where Chaos and Night spawned Love. Farther off, the various fates of the Titans were recorded, the doomed siblings who spawned the Pantheon and were subsequently conquered by their offspring.

Kassia had loved the doors from the first time she had seen them, for they held everything in the world: life and death, sunrise and sunset, joy and sorrow, love and betrayal, beauty and cruelty, truth and lies, gods and mortals. At last, with a final glance at the twenty-foot walls that surrounded the dwelling of the Vestal Virgins, she gave a gentle tug to the bellpull.

Within a few seconds, the slat in the door, about eye level, was drawn open with a clack, and twinkling blue eyes peered out at her. "Good morning!" the doorkeeper sang out, then toned down her voice when she realized her exuberance was not befitting of a priestess. It was just so hard, she thought, to be entertained by her duties. No one interesting ever came to the door at the crack of dawn. "Ahem. What is your name and your business with the temple?"

This acolyte was rather more lively than the sedate priestesses Kassia was used to, but she smiled at the younger girl, who reminded her of someone she just couldn't think of at the moment... "Good morning. My name is Kassia, and I am here to see Lady Hestia," she said readily.

The eyes were replaced by a glimpse of wheat-colored hair. "Do we know a Kassia?" the girl whispered to an unseen partner.

"Yes, you nitwit!" another voice hissed in response. "Lady Kassia is Lord Ares's avatar... She often visits Lady Hestia. Don't you remember anything you hear? Now hurry up and open the door; you don't want to keep her waiting."

Kassia hid a smile, waiting patiently for the door warden to return. She wasn't worried by the older girl's stern tone; the words sounded harsh, but there was a tolerant affection in her voice, like that of a long-suffering older sister watching out for the younger.

The blue eyes returned, and their owner said apologetically, "Sorry ma'am, one minute, please," and the door opened. Kassia found herself staring at the blue-eyed brunette and a dark-haired girl with doe-brown eyes. Both were garbed in white togas and neatly-fastened sandals.

The older girl swept a brisk curtsey while the brunette teetered somewhat on hers a minute later. "We thank you for your patience, Lady Kassia. Please forgive Diana; she's new here, and this is her first shift as door warden." All traces of amused annoyance had fled from her voice, which was now very formal.

It was then that Kassia recalled who the pair reminded her of: herself and Rhoswen, where she would do the scolding and Rhoswen would cause the exasperation. Oddly enough, it was Diana she warmed to instead of the dark-haired girl. Like knew like, and she was long-acquainted with the shadows that lurked in the depths of the girl's chocolate-brown eyes.

It was that girl, the nameless girl, who had left her charge with strict directions on how to man her post, who led Kassia to one of the little box-gardens of the temple that she was familiar with, having waited there several times in the past for Hestia to be finished with her affairs. After she thanked her guide, who bowed and backed away somewhat cautiously, she sat down on one of the white stone benches.

She felt tired and somehow old already when met with Diana's cheerful effervescence. Her conscience pricked her sharply as she thought of Rhoswen, who she had not spoken to for some time. Kassia's cheeks warmed slightly when she thought of the last time she and Rhoswen had talked – the other girl had been asking for guidance on dealing with Apollo – and Kassia remembered with some shame the uncomfortable incident with Mehalia and the fact that she still hadn't apologized yet.

Shoving the episode from her mind and promising to see both of them soon, Kassia lifted her head and regarded her surroundings. The plants were tended by master gardeners, and those in season flowered cheerfully, painting the verdant green backdrop with pretty reds, blues, purples, and golds. The potent scent of the incense that permeated the temple was dispelled by the more natural smell of flowers here, and Kassia breathed deeply of the cleansed air.

None of the other avatars visited the temple as frequently as she did. When she had first begun to call on Hestia, it had been not only to meet the woman but also to see the place where she would spend the rest of her life once she was freed from Ares's service. She liked Hestia, who ruled the place with authority and also compassion, and it was rare for Kassia to like people.

The temple was another matter entirely. Part of her embraced it as a sanctuary, where she gained a sense of peace from it as most visitors did. She felt that she could live here happily all her life with that serenity. The other half of her cried out against the restraints, begging to be liberated from such a place. It was also the side of her that caused her to feel a crushing sense of guilt whenever she approached those imposing, carved double-doors at the main entrance. Still, the aura of the temple drew on her with an addictive pull, an eternal torment she could not stay away from.

'What are the likes of you doing here?' her mind whispered as she cringed away from that accusatory voice. 'You don't belong here. You're a fraud. You're filthy; you'll contaminate the sanctity of the temple...or you'll be locked up like mad Eileithyia.'

Eileithyia had been the most beautiful woman of her generation and Ares's previous avatar. She had gone insane within a few years, eventually flying into a great rage and attacking Aphrodite. Kassia, who sympathized with poor Eileithyia, still wished that there had been some permanent damage to the goddess's face. Instead, Aphrodite, clinging to Ares in a well-planned swoon, had demanded that Eileithyia be sent to Hestia's temple for an indefinite period of time to "recover." She had never returned to Olympus.

* * *

It had initially disconcerted Eurus to see the reason for his visit to Hestia blithely entering the temple doors, her dark hair gleaming in the hot sunlight. She couldn't be in that much trouble, he grumbled silently to himself as he peered out at her, if her status was high enough to warrant her almost immediate entrance and deep curtsies from the two acolytes.

About to announce his presence to the doorkeeper, Eurus paused a moment longer, using his magic to look through the polished wood at the raven-haired woman. Nothing about her made sense, he thought to himself. It was clear that she was of high rank, and he suspected that she was married – no, he was absolutely sure of it. No woman that beautiful could be unmarried. And yet, he had just met her a few days ago, tearing across a dusty field and willing to help him nurse an injured crow back to health. That field was very far from Hestia's temple, surely more than two days' passage for mortals, so Eurus deduced that Kassia was also acquainted with some of the gods and goddesses, which fit with his guess that she was of the patrician class.

And yet, surely a woman acquainted with immortals could solicit their aid against an abusive husband. He suddenly recalled, quite clearly, the dark velvet of her voice as she had said, "I need the help of no man."

"Eurus."

He glanced up to see Hestia approaching him with her hands held out in welcome, a warm smile on her serene features. "My lady." He inclined his shining head in greeting. Even though he was a god, he was not allowed to enter the temple – letting a man set foot on the grounds meant defiling the sacredness of the temple, what it stood for, and even the women who inhabited it.

"And what brings you here today, golden one?" she inquired, leading him into the relief of a wide sunshade that had not been present a moment ago.

Eurus smiled disarmingly at her. "What makes you think I need a reason to look upon your lovely face, Aunt?"

"Men's wiles do not work on me, youngster." Despite her stern tone, Hestia's eyes were dancing. She was fond of this distant nephew of hers – all the gods were related somehow, no matter how obscure the connection – and he always exerted himself to be charming and courteous in her presence.

"Very well. Am I allowed to say, then, that your gracious person is missed on Olympus?"

"Hmph. As if you bore any fondness towards that place yourself. My brother," Hestia's eyes grew distant, as if she were regarding Zeus's palace, "may hold lavish balls on that high mountain of his, but he cannot keep his own wife in good humor and her proper place."

Eurus's smile was mocking. "Ah, but I'm sure he could, if he wanted. The thing is, he wants more to seek his pleasure where and as he pleases. And tell me truly – can you really see, and would you really want, your queenly sister, the esteemed Queen Hera, among your Vestal Virgins?"

Hestia laughed merrily. "Impertinent boy! If you showed such wit and more of those roguish smiles of yours at the Olympian festivities, your company would be greatly solicited."

"Maybe so, but the question is not whether they desire my company, but whether I desire theirs," he said arrogantly, before laughing at himself as well.

"Now that we have settled my social agenda, my brother's infidelity, and your popularity, I'm afraid you really must tell me why you've come – other than to flatter me. I have a guest who is, I am sure, waiting very patiently, but I have no wish to keep her waiting."

Eurus nodded. "I understand. It's merely a hypothetical inquiry – but suppose you suspected a woman was being maltreated physically and most likely emotionally by a husband, a father, or a lover. What would you do about it?"

Hestia's delicate eyebrows rose in perfectly-curved crescents. "Well, nothing, without proof." She smiled sadly at his baffled expression. "You are so young, Eurus, among the immortals. We are gods, but this does not mean we are free to treat mortals any way we want. Zeus treats with the merchants, the artisans, the aristocrats, and the farmers, currying their favor, so they continue to worship us and so they work together. Without these bonds of unity, without the temples they build and the proper respect, man's darker side would run rampant.

"It is true that many men mistreat their wives, but we hesitate to incur their anger. We also do not believe in infringing upon the sacred marital vows or the peace of a family, but if the woman comes to us seeking refuge, of course we do not hesitate to grant it to her and will from then on protect her with all our resources."

Eurus's blue eyes flicked towards the high walls for a moment, knowing that formidable female warriors trained and resided there, but said no more.

"Exactly how hypothetical is this situation?"

He shook his head. "If any developments occur, I will let you know."

Hestia peered at him closely. "Be careful, Eurus."

"Aren't I always, Hestia?"

She frowned. "No, of course not. You're young yet, although age is no guarantee for wisdom. You have a recklessness inside you, child."

He tried a flippant smile. "Now you are confusing me with Zephyr."

Sternly, she replied, "I confuse nothing. Zephyrus is entirely different than you. You think more highly of him that you would like to admit."

Eurus shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I don't want to encourage him. Thank you for your time, and your words, Hestia. I hope to see you again soon." Escorting her to the door, he continued in an idle tone, "This visitor of yours who tears you from me...she would not happen to go by the name of Rei, would she?"

Hestia looked at him sharply. "You know Rei?"

He hesitated. "I have met her once before, I believe. It is an uncommon name."

Hestia frowned darkly. In proper circumstances, Eurus would not have met her as Rei, but as Kassia, avatar of Lord Ares. "Yes, Rei is my guest today, and often. She is a lovely young woman, as I'm sure you've noticed – but very troubled. I would caution you not to further the acquaintance, Eurus."

As the doors were opened for her, he bowed smoothly. "I would not want to invite your displeasure, Aunt."

* * *

"And what's going on today?" Lehana inquired, regarding the scene before her with minute surprise. She and the other avatars were frequent visitors on the flower-bedecked Mount Ida, where they had many friends among the nymphs who dwelled there. The avatars were accustomed to the festivities now, but Lehana could not recall what holiday it could be.

Dryope, one of her closest friends among the nymphs, smiled brightly and explained, "Lord Dionysus has come to visit and brought some of his friends." "Some" had turned out to be over two dozen young mortals, gods, and satyrs who had come from miles around to join in the celebration.

Lehana's mouth quirked in exasperation as she surveyed the men and women gaily disporting themselves. "Well, in that case, don't tell them who I am – just introduce me as your friend Lita if anyone asks."

"And that isn't who you are, Leha?" asked quiet Sabrina, the blonde-haired dryad who flanked her left side.

Flustered, the brunette shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant... Just...don't tell them that I'm Zeus's avatar."

"Very well. It will be as you wish. Now come!" Dryope urged excitedly, pulling her towards the ring of dancers.

As they approached, another nymph appeared from the fray with dimples in both cheeks and scores of flower garlands slung about her person. She took one off her arm and placed it on Lehana's glossy curls. "Hello, sweetheart," she greeted, kissing Leha's cheek, "it's about time you got here. I saved this one just for you, knowing you'd like the oak leaves." They were twined with pink rosebuds.

She smiled at the nymph, Lily, who reminded her of Mehalia, even though Melia was blonde and Lily redheaded. "Thank you, Lily."

"I'm starving; let's eat," Dryope exclaimed, dragging them off to the pretty gazebo where food, mostly fruits, and drink were arranged. Selecting a bunch of plump green grapes, she scaled a nearby tree and, once she was seated on a branch, curled up against the trunk and laughed down at them merrily. In the meantime, Leha greeted some of the other dryads she knew who were clustered there.

Lily soon dashed off to embrace another newcomer and shower them with flower garlands until she was drawn into the ring of dancers, where she remained, her garlands disposed of, and she never lacked a partner.

Choosing a cup of ambrosia over Dionysus's wine, Sabrina took a seat more sedately and asked, "And how are things on Olympus, Leha?"

"Hm...things have actually been a bit dull, lately. Hera and Aphrodite have been complaining, so Zeus is giving a ball soon – a masquerade ball, you see, where everyone is supposed to come in costume." Lehana smiled to herself at the delighted reaction of the nymphs; after the initial squeals, they immediately turned to planning their attire for the anticipated event. Within a fortnight, every deity in the world would know of the ball.

She turned her head slightly when she noticed ripples in the stream running alongside their gathering, then cried, "Panopea!"

The Nereid rose from the water in the midst of a jetting fountain, smiling warmly at Lehana. "Hello, Leha. Are you enjoying the festivities?"

"Yes, very much. It's good to see you again; it's been much too long. Tell me, how are things in Poseidon's kingdom?"

Panopea laughed. "Now, do you think I'll reveal all our secrets to a land-dweller?"

Leha smiled back. "Not secrets, just gossip."

"Very well. My cousin Michiru, I believe you're acquainted, aren't you? is to be married this autumn. Will you come to the wedding?"

"Of course! I hadn't heard – oh, but I haven't seen Michiru in some time. Is it a love match, then?" she added uncertainly, remembering suddenly that unless the world had been set entirely upside down, Haruka would not be pleased.

The blue-haired woman sobered instantly. "No, I do not believe so. Lord Poseidon made a contract with his brother, your lord. It seems that one of the wind gods was getting a bit out of hand in his affairs, and they thought marriage would steady him. A stupid notion, but that's men for you." Leha laughed at that in complete agreement. "Poor Michiru, being as beautiful and as well-connected as she is, was chosen in hopes that she could keep his attention from straying," Panopea explained. "And she has gone unattached for so long, I'm sure Poseidon thought he was doing her a favor."

Leha snorted in response, clearly showing her opinion of the messy affair. However, her attention was just then distracted by the approach of Dryope and a very tall, very handsome man with wavy brown hair and midnight blue eyes. Her spine snapped straight the instant their eyes met, and hers widened incredulously when she realized where she had seen this man before.

Completely unaware of the deadly sparks Leha's eyes were shooting, Dryope led the not-quite-stranger closer, chattering unconcernedly as they neared. Notus looked up from her eager face, and after the initial surprise wore off, his eyebrows rose sardonically, as if questioning how someone of her probable background was associating with the nymphs.

"Here she is! This is Lita, the girl I've been wanting to introduce you to for forever," Dryope chirped cheerfully, glancing at her friend in hope of a positive reaction.

"We've met," she replied icily, all signs of good nature gone from her face.

Looking at what now resembled an aloof flower goddess, Notus, with laughing eyes, seized her unwilling hand and kissed it courteously. "Charmed to see you again, Miss – Lita, was it? I'm Nephrite."

She gritted her teeth, desperately wanting to wipe that needling smile off his face.

It was Dryope's turn to raise her eyebrows as she looked between the two of them, but she always loved a good joke. If both of them wanted to pretend they were someone else today, she wouldn't be the one to correct it. "Well, I'll leave you two to get further acquainted then. Cheers!" She bounded off, leaving Notus and Lehana staring at each other: he with an ironic smile on his face, she as angry as a hissing wildcat.

* * *

AN: And this is the fruit of my long absence...so, how has everyone been? Right now, I'm mainly working on LAFS, Soulmates, and Avatars, so expect chapters for those as soon as I get around to writing them. Thanks for reading!

Ice


	9. Unexpected

_The Avatars – Chapter Nine: Unexpected_  
"Fancy meeting you here," Notus remarked, trying not to laugh at her expression. "I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with the nymphs."  
"Likewise," Lehana retorted through gritted teeth. "I was under the impression that you were a boorish man who liked to spy on half-naked women. Actually, the description remains quite accurate."  
He raised his eyebrows and drawled in response, "Well, I thought you were an uneducated woodcutter's daughter with a penchant for violence. If memory serves me correctly, however, weren't you entirely naked instead of merely half-naked?"  
Her cheeks were suffused with a slow, dangerous heat, and she saw red as her hand smacked across his cheek with a resounding crack.  
Everyone in the clearing looked up (except those who were too inebriated to do so), and Dryope ran over to them in alarm. Notus, who had never been slapped so hard in his life, was staring at Lehana wordlessly. "Honestly! I leave you alone for two minutes, thinking you'll get along nicely, and you've insulted her already?!"  
Notus turned to her as mediator, clearly expecting her to take his side. "Is it my fault," he managed around his swelling cheek, "that the woman clouts me for stating the truth? It seems I was correct about the violent tendencies."  
"Really, Le–Lita? Is that the truth?" Dryope inquired in her light voice, looking between them bemusedly.  
In the long, awkward silence that followed while Lehana was formulating her reply, Notus turned to her with a somewhat pained smile on his face (and for good reason). "Well, in truth, the error was mostly mine – far be it for me to insult a beautiful woman, Lady Lita. If I have given offense, please accept my abject apologies."  
Lehana was still combating the shock of slap, the stinging of her hand, and the surprise that Notus had saved her from utter humiliation, was forced to surrender when both pairs of huge blue eyes fixed on her. "I admit my behavior was not very admirable either, Lord Notus. Let us put it behind us and start anew."  
"Agreed – if it can be Notus, without the 'lord.'"  
Completely unaware of the shockwaves she had just sent through the immortal and mortal worlds by introducing the volatile pair, Dryope excused herself again, drafting the reluctant Panopea to keep an eye on them.  
"Fine," Lehana said stiffly, fixing a polite smile on her face. The man was appalling. He started the conversation by reminding her of a very embarrassing event, was obviously charming and well-liked by everyone present excepting, notably, herself, and had just now decided that they should address each other more intimately? She eyed him suspiciously, thinking to herself, 'I hate smooth men. They're all talk, no brains, and honor? I've seen vultures with more honor than him.'  
"So, since you obviously are not a woodcutter's daughter" her eyebrows lowered menacingly "don't tell me you're the daughter of some almighty god who will now flay me alive?" Notus asked with a brave attempt at a smile.  
'No, actually, I'm just Zeus's avatar, not his daughter.'  
She shot him her coldest look. "I'm an Amazon," she said, shaking her glossy waves of hair over her shoulders, having no idea that she had just caused the blood in his body had suddenly rushed to some very uncomfortable places. It was a day for Lehana to be herself – brashly, boldly, unapologetically herself, and no matter what, this pigheaded man was not going to ruin it for me.  
"Ah. Er...if you don't mind me asking, I've always wanted to know – is it true that you kill every man you come across?"

* * *

"Where are you going, Mehalia?"  
She spun around, her pulse quickening automatically when she heard that mellifluous voice. When it was addressing her, it was still as silvery as the pealing of tiny bells but filled with unmasked contempt. Mehalia made a small curtsey, allowing the resentment to simmer in her eyes only when they were hidden under lowered lashes. "To Thessaly, my lady, to answer a summons for aid."  
Aphrodite's pale blue eyes narrowed. "What kind of aid?"  
"I'm sure I don't know," Mehalia replied carelessly, "but since there's been a drought in that region for the past two months, I suspect the matter is related to the lack of rainfall."  
The goddess lost interest immediately. "Very well."  
"By your leave, Aphrodite," Mehalia mumbled as she brushed past her mistress.  
As her nostrils flared unbecomingly, Aphrodite said, "One moment, Mehalia. Be sure to return by nightfall – you'll be having a visitor, tonight. Surely you haven't forgotten?"  
Mehalia started, all too aware of the other woman's needling tone. Of course. She had promised a week ago to entertain Himeros, the god of desire and one of Eros's attendants. Like the longing that was his area of expertise, he could be cruel and difficult to satisfy.  
"I won't be late," she promised softly, and her mistress nodded her satisfaction. Victory, for today, belonged to her.  
Once Mehalia had gone, she glanced out the window, seeing in her mind's eye the airy castle on Aeolia where Boreas resided. Perhaps today, she thought, there might be more than one triumph for her to savor.

* * *

For the twentieth time that afternoon, Boreas wondered what he was doing roasting in the sunny field and getting grass stains on his clothing. He gritted his teeth – where was she? Had she forgotten? Had she promised to meet him here without any intention of meeting him, now laughing with another man? He rose swiftly, determined not to let her make a fool out of him.  
Suddenly, like a mirage in the desert, she was streaking towards him like a golden ray of sunshine. "Kunzite! Thank you for waiting. I was afraid you might have left already – I'm so sorry – but I was detained," she gasped out in short bursts of speech.  
He stood there silently, regarding her so coldly that she felt a momentary flash of fear.  
"Kunzite? Is – is something wrong?"  
"No, nothing." Before he knew it, the incriminating words were out of his mouth. "I was afraid you might have forgotten."  
Her smile grew to blinding brilliance, and Boreas felt himself falling more deeply under her spell, a sparkling golden net studded with sapphires the color of her eyes. The goddess of love was nothing in comparison to her, nothing at all...  
Shortly thereafter, they unpacked an impressive array of food – Boreas's share from the palace chef and Mehalia's begged from Lehana before she had gone to socialize with the nymphs. The tall brunette had been eager to go and eager to have Mehalia accompany her, but she had excused herself somewhat vaguely, claiming that someone needed to remain on Olympus in case their services were needed: no one had been able to keep track of Rhoswen's whereabouts lately, Kassia was visiting Hestia, and Ayla off on an errand for Athena. She didn't know why, but she felt the need to keep her meeting with Kunzite a secret. Their acquaintance was so brief, the assignation made so suddenly...and Lehana was not a champion of men.  
"So, tell me about yourself," he said abruptly, drawing her out of her reverie.  
Mehalia choked on her pastry, which was stuffed with almond cream and topped with powdered sugar. "There isn't that much to tell. What would you like to know?" she smiled winningly.  
"Well, what do you do, day in and day out?" he prompted. "Besides teach lost strangers the dance steps, of course."  
She laughed gaily. "Oh, most of the year, I stay with my aunt who lives at the foot of Mount Olympus. You could say I'm a sort of liaison between the gods and the mortals," she improvised hastily. The latter part was true, the former was not.  
Boreas raised his eyebrows and made a noncommital noise. Not as naive and ignorant of the gods' workings as he'd thought. "Impressive. You are acquainted with the gods, then?"  
She flushed slightly, speaking in an embarrassed tone, "Oh no, I'm afraid I exaggerated a bit, you see. I mostly deal with the servants who work there."  
"Oh, I see." He didn't really but refrained from further questioning.  
"And you? How do you spend your days?"  
It was his turn to be caught off-guard. "Well...I... What I do some of the time is train young men to fight."  
'Heroes,' he corrected himself, 'like Achilles and Ajax and Heracles...'  
Her eyes widened. "Really? Soldiers?"  
"You could say that." They all went to war eventually, either for the profit or their loyalty to a king. Despite his training, not all of them came back.  
"You must live in a grand palace, then, with a noble king."  
"Why do you say that?"  
She tapped a finger against her lips. "Well, for one thing, you dress very nicely. It would cost anyone here half a year's pay for the cloth of that tunic alone, if I'm not mistaken. Then again, we don't buy much of our cloth; we raise sheep and weave our clothing. Your speech reveals that you are educated, and your taste in food is quite refined."  
"And the noble king?" Boreas asked.  
Again, she laughed. "That was merely an assumption. You don't seem like the type of man to serve someone you don't respect for long."  
He was surprised into silence for a moment. "My king is very young, warm-hearted and eager to please. Because of these qualities, he is often called upon to prove himself to other less merciful and older...kings. As a result, he expects only the best not only from his councillors but also himself."  
"You speak of him as if you know him very well."  
"We grew up together," was his response. He thought of the other three men they had grown up with and felt a headache coming on. Aeolus immersed himself in his duties when he wasn't off wandering the grounds, Notus had yet to have a serious relationship with a woman he cared about, Eurus was being more mysterious than ever about his whereabouts, and Zephyr... Well, Zephyr was going to be married shortly hereafter; the formal announcement would be made at Zeus and Hera's upcoming ball. None of them could imagine Zephyr married, especially to Michiru.

* * *

Ayla waited for the huge double-doors of the palace to open with some trepidation, although she had been very interested a few moments ago in the mechanism involved with lowering and raising the drawbridge. It was quite simple, really, she appraised, focusing her thoughts on a mental diagram of the pulleys to take her mind off things. She even thought there might be room for improvement, if she had the time and the opportunity to–  
"Lady Ayla?"  
She glanced up, seeming for all the world like a startled doe on the verge of bolting. Instead of the elderly, gray-haired steward she was familiar with, a youth with coal-black hair and startling, sapphire-blue eyes was looking down at her. Perhaps he was the steward's apprentice. 'My, he's tall,' she thought nervously. "Yes..."  
"Welcome to Aeolia," Aeolus smiled. "How may I help you today?"  
Ayla drew herself up, trying to feel less intimidated by his height and his very good looks. "Thank you, I'm on an errand for the Lady Athena. I was wondering if it might be possible for me to peruse your library and borrow some of your scrolls? If you would prefer that they remain in the castle, I would be more than happy to look over them here."  
Aeolus offered his arm to her, proceeding to escort her to the library. He was rather proud of himself, having compiled it with Zephyrus's help. It had taken both of them several years of hard work and dedication to finish the job.  
She took his arm, all the while trying to remember where she had seen him before. She was sure she had seen if not met him...but where?  
"No, I have no problem with lending you and Lady Athena the scrolls, as long as they are returned. Knowledge is meant to be shared."  
"Thank you for your generosity. You know, it's interesting, Lady Athena says that quite often herself...about how everyone should partake in wisdom, I mean...your highness!" Ayla cried belatedly, stopping stock-still in the hall to stare at him in alarm.  
He smiled sheepishly. "Ah – yes. I've heard her say that myself," he replied as she curtsied deeply.  
"King Aeolus – I am so sorry not to have recognized you earlier," she apologized.  
"It's all right. We haven't really met each other before, have we? I only knew your name because my steward helpfully supplied it just before you arrived."  
Shyly, Ayla said, "No, we've never met before, my lord, but I've seen your likeness in marble on Mount Olympus."  
Aeolus threw back his head and laughed. "You must be very observant indeed. I must confess, I have yet to see the piece myself, but my friend Zephyr assures me it is a terrible likeness."  
She remained silent, unsure if she had given offense. To put her at ease, he inquired about her interests. When notified that Athena's avatar would be visiting his palace (all her previous visits, all to the library, he had been too busy to see to her comfort personally), he had been intensely curious to see what she would be like. "Well, before I became an avatar, my dream was to be a healer. Of course, women healers are very rare – mostly they only serve as midwives. Currently, I study medicine independently, although Lord Hermes has been very encouraging."  
Aeolus glanced down at the top of her head. "You study with Hermes?"  
"A bit."  
"You should watch out, then. He's tricky, that one."  
She smiled faintly. "Yes, I know." She was no stranger to Hermes's mercurial ways.  
He nodded. "I recommend that you consult Chiron, lord among centaurs. He is knowledgeable about medicinal herbs and such, as you may know."  
Ayla turned her head in surprise. "Yes, I'm acquainted with Chiron. Do you know him well?"  
"Oh, I suppose. I have a little interest in medicine myself."  
"Really? That's fascinating. I've never known a king, immortal or mortal, who studied medicine."  
Again, he gave her that charming, white-toothed smile. "I'm an unconventional king, I admit. Ah, here we are," he announced, pulling open one of the large, gold-plated double-doors himself for her. "Please, take as much time as you'd like," he invited, "you won't be disturbed, I assure you."  
"Thank you very much, my lord."  
"Any time. Enjoy."  
As the doors swung shut, Ayla wandered among shelves, hunting first for the scrolls Athena had directed her to bring back and then allowing herself to pull out the ones she desired to look at. Taking them to a table in a little alcove by an open window, she read happily for an hour, undisturbed except by the cheerful little breeze issuing forth from the window until a long-haired shadow fell across the page...  
"Good afternoon," Zephyrus greeted, a sardonic smile on his face. "My, my, Ami – you do turn up in the strangest places, don't you?"

* * *

AN: Yay, cliffhanger! :) I hope you're enjoying Avatars...despite the bad pun I threw in a few paragraphs ago . Not that much happened in this chapter (one of the guys finally met an undisguised avatar), but the next should provide a bit more action. We'll re-convene with Mako & Neph, Minako & Kunz, and also Serenity... Comments, questions, or concerns?  
Ice


End file.
